


Ever Dance With the Devil

by Krustybunny



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Non smut fic, Other, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Werewolf, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 201,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5998960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krustybunny/pseuds/Krustybunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Swan Werewolf AU. Rated M for Violence<br/>Killian is a werewolf hunting down a serial killer of his own kind, a wolf that sets his sight on Emma Swan. Emma Swan is just another human trying to survive life in general when one night out sends it all into a tailspin. Watch the vid for this fic!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aruB52YHw98</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Note From Me

**Author's Note:**

> I highly recommend reading Patricia Briggs' Mercy Thompson and Alpha&Omega series. I am loosely following her established format of werewolf and other supernatural beings.

_Hello all._

_Just more than a year ago, I posted a silly little one-shot placing our CS ship in a Supernatural AU. (No not the show, the genre. Vampires, werewolves... those things.) A problem arose in that the words kept coming. The one-shot turned into something quite massive. Other than the basic story it turned into, I was coming up with backgrounds and lives for side characters that only had a small speaking part, thinking of prequels and sequels… Needless to say, I suffer from an extreme case of word vomit._

_Right around the fifteenth chapter, some things had been said to me about my writing that hit hard and deep. So I took it all down. Every story, even the small SPN story I had. (Yes the show.) I don't possess any talent or skill to speak of, but writing is something I enjoy. Usually, it's just for myself. The experience of the reviews showed me that my writing belonged on my hard drive and not in public forum. It isn't a case of thick skin, but about speaking to an insecurity I combat every day.  
_

**Words of Caution:** What you might see as constructive criticism might not be seen as the same by the person you speak to. Tones and humor are lost in text reviews, your intentions can get lost with them. Offer the choice of hearing it before giving the advice over.

_As I said, I suffer word vomit alongside complete inability to make the words do things. However the story didn't give a fuck that I didn't want to write it anymore. It kept sounding off in my head, only giving me peace once I wrote it down. I shared it privately with a total of five people as it continued. Two of them have been encouraging me to place it back up lately, and I'm fairly certain that if I asked a third, she would go along with them. I'll be honest, I really don't want to. I was shown how my words were being received, and I'm not eager to relive that. Ever. Fool me once and all that._

_Maybe it's my ridiculous need to be proven right no matter how much it hurts, but I'm going to compromise and dip my toes one more time, sending up chapters slowly._

**Disclaimer:** I'M NO WRITER. Really. What you read is as good as it gets. This is the extent of my potential. These aren't first drafts. These aren't even the fifth or sixth drafts. If you start reading it and find yourself hoping it gets better later, I recommend walking away. It won't.

_So here it is._

_"Ever Dance With the Devil" is a CS Supernatural AU. _Killian is a werewolf that is hunting down a serial killer of his own kind. A wolf that sets his sight on Emma Swan. Emma Swan is just another human trying to survive life in general when one night out sends it all into a tailspin.__

_This follows the basic rules set about in the Mercy Thompson series by Patricia Briggs. I don't follow the Mercy-verse exactly (I'm following the biological set up mostly, MT characters and world set up are not present), so this isn't a crossover, but reading the books (or if you have read them) will give you the basic ideas of how this world functions. _Wolves are not "out" to the human world. Keeping that under wraps is a priority._ Full change still takes a few minutes, but evolution has given way to some changes being immediate for the sake of self-defense. Heightened senses (including eye change), elongated hands and nails (resembling a half-formed claw), muscle density (strength and slight speed increase). While Killian and Emma both have apartments in Granny's building, Killian is given jobs all over, not just New York City. Or state. He only stays in that apartment when he's in New York long enough. Those of you not used to the "urban bubble", it is common to never meet your neighbors, even if all of you have been so for 20+ years._

_As before, I apologize for every word spoken and every minute you spend on this._


	2. Party Hats, With Those Shoes

**Chapter 1:**

**Party Hats, With Those Shoes**

* * *

Emma Swan wasn't one to believe that running was fun. Even when her line of work demanded the activity near weekly, often more than that. Though there was a personal satisfaction every time she tackled someone running _from_ her. (She'd ice a million shoulders and endure all the scraped knees if she made the idiots making her run connected with the pavement.) But that was for work, she got _paid_ for that. Paychecks and body checks aside, the fact remained, running wasn't something Emma liked doing. And right now, it wasn't any better. In fact it was worse. She hated every step that shot pain up her legs. Hated the burning in her chest as her lungs struggled for air. Hated the thumping her heart made as it beat out blood in time with her legs. Hated that the blood –which should be making its way throughout her body– was half spilling out from her back and staining what nice clothing she actually owned. Hated that Central Park was so _fucking_ huge. Hated that she believed in herself enough to think that she could handle the guy she was walking in the park with if he tried anything. Hated that she trusted his sideways smile for that fraction of a second. Hated the irony of running for her life, when she was the one enjoying the chase just that same morning.

Hated that she didn't hate the guy who coaxed her into a stroll through the park, even after he… _changed_ … and hurt her. She couldn't hate him; Emma was too busy being scared.

During the first thirty seconds of her run, Emma began to believe that she had made some distance on him; that she could get away. But when the first minute was almost up, and she could hear him still steadily behind her, that small hope was crushed. He neither gained ground nor lost it, maintaining his current distance. His footfalls were even and paced, waiting for her to tire and slow down. Or god forbid, fall down. Emma's mind was lurching in zigzag patterns, desperately trying to figure out exactly where in the park she was, or which direction might be best to run in and find the general public of New York City. (Witnesses and street cameras would be her new best friends if she could get to them.) Trying to figure out why the asshole was hunting her… what the asshole was.

He roared behind her. It just enough of a distraction to her already scattered mind to cause her foot to land where she wasn't looking, getting caught on a raised tree root. She fell face first into the dirt and leaves, and for a moment, she was thankful that nature wasn't being ground into her open wounds instead. Until she realized she couldn't see anything but the tree in front of her and the ground beneath her and _not_ the guy who made her run. The bastard actually laughed at her then. He wasn't running now, simply strode over to her body. A body that wasn't cooperating with Emma anymore, even with her brain screaming orders to get back up and run again. Hell, inch away… anything to keep moving. But the orders were getting lost out the slashes in her back; oozing out in a thick, warm, sticky mess. She felt him crouch down at her left hip, his fingers touching the gouges he made in her skin. If she had enough air, she would've screamed. But the reserves that were supposed to be kept in her lungs had been whooshed out from the fall. When she heard the wet pop of his fingers leaving his mouth, she was sure she'd vomit –air or no air.

"I so love it when they run, makes the blood sweeter. Impressive that you got this far in those boots Emma, really. I'm quite tempted to keep you." His finger swirled again along her back, gathering more blood for his tasting.

"You aren't human." She may not be able to move, but hell would freeze before she'd let this… _thing_ … feel like he'd beaten her. Every new breath, however shallow, were words she could –would– hit his ego with.

"No. No I'm not." He was laughing at her again. "What gave it away? The running right? I was never really good at pacing myself."

"Or when you cut open my back. Or when your eyes glowed. Might have been when you yelled to distract me. People don't... make sounds like that."

"I knew I was starting to like you. Maybe I _should_ keep you…" His swirling finger traveled down over her buttocks, "Your blood is sweet Emma. Is the rest of you just as sweet? Sweet and soft?" His hand roamed up the inside of her thigh, "Shall I find out Emma?"

Her laughter was hysterical. " _You're asking?_ You'll do what you fucking want to do. But personally? Whatever you are, you're just another sick fuck who can't get attention unless you unleash the inner crazy. Let me guess, Mommy didn't hug you enough or did Daddy hug you too much?" She felt his fingers –oddly _sharp_ fingers–dig into her leg; positive he was putting new holes in her body.

Laughter –not his– sounded from her other side, startling them both. "She seems to have you all sorted out."

Emma wished she her muscles would obey so she could turn her head. She didn't like the idea of not knowing who else was close enough to help and not doing exactly that. Those types tended to join in more often than not. But lifting her head an inch to try, only sent waves of pain from her injuries.

_At least that one has a voice that's nice listening to. … … Fantastic priorities Emma, way to keep your head on._

"Not like it would have taken me long, there isn't much to him." She countered. If the new guy was going to make it easy for her, she might as well take the open shots to the _thing_ holding her leg. The fingers dug again, causing Emma to scream. She definitely had puncture marks.

"And who might you be, _friend_?" The _thing_ growled, "I don't remember handing out invitations for this party." He rose, feet on either side of her now injured leg. A protective stance. Emma would feel touched if she didn't know that he was simply guarding his meal.

The new man snickered. "A party is it? Shouldn't a good party have those funny little hats? And a couple bottles of wine? Though I'd settle for some rum…"

Emma held up a finger in the air, braking into their conversation. "I could use a triple of whiskey if you two are taking orders. And make my hat one of those tiny top hats. With glitter. And a feather. Black if you can manage it." She burst into giggles. Later she'd attribute it all to shock and lack of blood, but right now, the whole situation was funny. Till the _thing_ kicked her, jarring her whole body.

"Aye, sounds fair-"

"I asked for your name." The _thing_ was obviously losing his patience with the intrusion.

"Oh! Where are my manners? Killian Jones." Emma imagined Mr. Jones declaring his name with his own top hat taken off in a flourished bow. It caused another round of giggles and another kick to her hip.

"I suggest you be on your way _Jones_. My girl and I are just having a bit of fun."

"A bit of fun now? I've been out looking for a bit of fun tonight. Glad to know I found it."

"Did you?"

"Aye."

The wind shifted. Emma shivered in it. The byplay between the men changing, as the _thing_ standing over her went from bothered to furious. Emma felt him shift and tense his stance above her, inhuman sounds escaping him yet again.

"She is mine. Find your own."

"I sincerely doubt that mate. I'll be taking the lady, and you'll quietly go back to your den, tail properly tucked between your legs."

Growling erupted above her. Emma wished desperately to be home and waking up from this very bad dream, but each blink of her eyes yielded nothing. At the very least, she wished to be able to flip over and see what the hell was going on over her. Emma was breathing, but her chest still burned for more air and briefly she worried that the damage to her back wasn't just on the surface. Wishes weren't horses, and worries might not be worth the moments focused on them if she was going to be someone's dinner in a few moments.

"I'll just… wait here for you two to… to stop spraying down the trees. Not like I'm… bleeding to death or anything…" _Like struggling to breathe._

Consistent in their reactions to her quips, the _thing_ above her kicked her again as the new guy huffed a laugh.

_Glad to see someone thinks I'm funny._

"Honestly mate, she's too much female for you. You should find something more your speed. Perhaps something slower and less intelligent? I hear they sell pre-cut meat at the markets now…"

Now Emma laughed. Or rather, coughed, but she coughed with humor. Well… humor came after the searing pain subsided. She didn't know who this guy was, or what he wanted. There was a good chance he was worse than the _thing_ standing above her given her luck tonight. But spending what was becoming her last moments teaming up with him to smash the _thing's_ ego further was ratcheting up her bucket list at amazing speed.

"Be on your way, _friend_." Demanded _thing_.

"Not likely, _mate_." Countered new guy.

The air shifted once more, growing heavy and pressing down around her. The _thing_ above her whimpered. _All I wanted was a nice night out…_

"Just go… he's not… human. Not…" Emma couldn't find enough air. The world (of trees and dirt) was tilting in front of her even though she was stationary. The idea of sleeping kept passing her mind, and becoming harder to resist.

"Good lass, but bad form to leave a damsel in distress. And if boyo here has been paying attention, he's going to do as he's told and scurry off."

"It's… ok…"

"No, it's not. What do you say mate? Be the coward you are and run away? Or stay and fight? One ends in your death, but she's mine in either choice."

Emma felt her heart thud twice before the _thing_ above her roared. She waited another two beats for the sounds of fighting and wet sounds of tearing flesh to start, but all that came was the crunch of dead leaves as the other guy rushed to her side.

"You… saved me…"

"Don't thank me just yet love. I have to move you; medics won't reach you here in time."

Emma screamed as he lifted her upright. Pain shooting throughout her body, but finally able to take a gulp of air. She vaguely noticed that while she was vertical again –by grace of this man's strength– her feet dangled underneath her.

"How-"

She lifted her head, screamed again, and finally let the dark take her over.

_His eyes… he's not human either…_

* * *

Killian hated human taverns –or bars, as they were now called. Rancid smells of body odor, vomit, and urine mated with the smells of fried foods and drink. Lust and sex and laboratory generated scents wafted off of every other human that passed him. In a word, it was vile. He wasn't sure if he envied a human's hindrance to smells, or if he wished the most sensitive of noses on them as retribution for their pollution. If he weren't being paid to be here, Killian would run from this place, gagging for open air. (It's New York City, hoping for _clean_ air isn't an option.) But he _was_ being paid, and his current "job" was a fan of places such as this. Killian watched his mark hover by the front entrance, currently chatting up his next victim. Killian pitied the woman, she was utterly unaware of what her night would be like in another few moments, or if she would ever see another. Not that Killian wished her dead, but her unfortunate fate would give him the chance to finally put this guy down. It was a small consolation to both himself and the woman that if she perished, at least her death wouldn't be in vain. He didn't get paid to save the victims, so he didn't. (Usually.)

This current job –Walsh was his name– had a thing for finding "pets". He'd locate a good-looking woman and force her to run with his tactic of choice for the night. Usually altering his body or injuring the female slightly. If she gave Walsh a good chase, he'd take her back to the place he was inhabiting for that town. There he would brand and collar her, force-feed her, fuck her, and bludgeon her. When they died from his treatment, Walsh simply went out to find a new one in a new location. Barely disposing of the body, if he didn't eat it first. It was the women that didn't provide Walsh with a good night of running that were lucky. Those women he killed on the spot, half eaten for his troubles, but saved from weeks or months of torture. Killian had finally managed to be in the same town at the same time as a disposal, making tracking the blighter to the next location much easier. But Walsh was running through his pets faster now, he was escalating, and it was causing the human world to finally take notice. It only made Killian's job simpler. Now instead of a catching the deviant and trying to rehabilitate the thing before handing him over to higher authorities, Killian's orders were to kill on sight. Given Killian had been tracking this asshole from the mid-west for the last two months; he was more than willing to finally dispatch the rabid mongrel and be done with the whole affair.

Walsh convinced the woman for the customary walk where no one would be around, and Killian hoped the bint was really that stupid for her own sake. Stupid might make her scream in place rather than run away. Killian tracked them through Central Park, idly watching from a distance as Walsh changed just enough to frighten the female. Watched as Walsh gouged the girl's back with a half-formed claw. Watched her run ( _dammit_ ) through the dark, giving Walsh the chase he wanted. If Killian were an honest man, he'd admit to enjoying the sight of her running almost as much as Walsh did. Hair flying back like a banner, legs stretching and landing as if running through the woods was something she did normally. She was fast, even with her wound, even in those shoes. If Killian was an honest man… but he wasn't. It was the roar from Walsh that snapped him back to the task at hand. Killian saw the woman fall in the distraction. Killian kept himself downwind as he edged up on them, leaning against a tree, waiting for his chance to kill the bastard. The woman was on the ground and had lost a considerable amount of blood. It was bitter with fear, staining the air as much as her clothes. But then she sassed Walsh, accusing him of impotence of all things. She was making herself a better candidate for a pet by the second; breaking the female's spirit was part of Walsh's M.O.

"She seems to have you all sorted out." The words flew from Killian without thought. A part of him unwilling to let her die if she was willing to fight after she had already lost.

Walsh whirled and faced him. The woman's body tensed what muscles were still at her command. (Killian had another part of him that needed to make an entrance it seemed.) The woman insulted Walsh again, earning a new injury to scream for. Killian was conflicted between egging her on for further entertainment and commanding her to be quiet for the sake of her life.

"And who might you be, _friend_? I don't remember handing out invitations for this party."

Killian was eager to end this prat right then, tired of the git's ego and the mouth that voiced it. But avoiding exposure to their world was paramount in his work, which meant he needed the woman to faint or die. But of course, instead of obliging rules unknown to her, the woman asked for a tumbler of alcohol and a rather elaborate party hat. The same part of Killian that was unwilling to let her die was starting to like her. _He_ wasn't.

"I asked for your name." Neither part was fond of Walsh taking their attention away from the female however.

"Oh! Where are my manners? Killian Jones." Killian waited a moment for recognition to crawl across Walsh's face, only to be disappointed again. He wasn't famous, to be sure, but there were always whispers of the ones in his line of work. Everything always went smoother when the marks knew who he was. Walsh was oblivious of course, having the absolute audacity to dismiss him. All forms Killian had, has, and could possess railed against just a blatant display of ignorance. He was a man of pride after all –to a degree anyway– and this whelp thought to issue out challenges and dominance like candy. The wind shifted, sending Killian's scent over to the imbecile. At least now Walsh understood what he was dealing with, if he wouldn't know who.

"She is mine. Find your own."

The woman whimpered under Walsh, and that part of Killian that thought her worthy of his time smiled for her. _Gods she won't go down._

Killian shook his head, both for her resilience and the git's idiocy. "I sincerely doubt that mate. I'll be taking the lady, and you'll quietly go back to your den, tail properly tucked between your legs."

"I'll just… wait here for you two to… to stop spraying down the trees. Not like I'm… bleeding to death or anything…"

She barely had breath to talk, and still she handed their balls back to them. Killian couldn't help but laugh again, he preferred women who had a spark to them. He insulted Walsh once more, enjoying the growing banter a bit too much, and earning himself another dismissal. Banter or no, he was tired of the foreplay. A growl began in Killian's chest. This boy was below him in every manner. Killian eased out the weight of his dominance only partially, causing Walsh to slump forward like a cowed servant, sniveling under the pressure.

That's when the oddest thing –in all his years– happened to Killian Jones. The bleeding, possibly dying, woman bade him to _leave_. To save his own life from the monster above her –insisted even. Walsh had indeed found a prize; one Killian was happily taking. However, there wasn't time to both save her and kill Walsh while obeying the rules of his job. Both choices carried weight and consequence that should have stalled him enough to think for more than a couple seconds. The woman's life and well-being versus ridding the world of an evil. He'd question how easy the answer came later. The result was Walsh's rage, and subsequent running. Killian would find him again, but right now the woman needed a hospital. At her side, he could see the depth of the marks Walsh had given her. Mostly surface muscle from what he could tell through the blood. It would take time, but she would mend. If the blood loss didn't kill her. The bruising on her skin implied a broken rib or two, and just like that her chances dropped with the chance of internal bleeding on the list. Maybe he chose wrong. (He knew he didn't.)

"You… saved me…"

"Don't thank me just yet love. I have to move you; medics won't reach you here in time." He grabbed her at her armpits, forcing her arms upward with his fingers to expand her chest cavity as much as possible and hopefully avoiding stretching her wounds too much via gravity. Vertical and supported, she'd be able to get some air back in her lungs –as long as one wasn't punctured and the gouges didn't tear further anyway. With a frown, he worried that just might have just made it worse and killed her himself. But she was screaming in pain, which only meant air was moving through her again. Air in the lungs, and no extra rivulets of blood flowing over his fingertips; he stopped worrying and waited for her pain to ebb.

Her head lolled forward after a few deep breaths, her head tilting to the side. "How-"

She tilted her head further to look sideways at him, and Killian saw her for the first time. Eyes green as trees, high cheekbones… beautiful even smudged in dirt and blood. Maybe more so. Her eyes locked on his, effectively halting his world in that moment, clicking something into place while he was distracted and unable to stop it. He watched as the fear came over her eyes, her piercing scream hurtling his world back into motion. She chose then to finally faint.

He hauled her over his shoulders in a fireman's carry, not wanting to further injure her back by touching it, balancing her weight as he dug out his phone. Quickly dialing his contact for this part of the world.

_**"Hey stranger."** _

_"Ruby darling, I need you to prep the back room for me."_

_**"How bad are you?"** _

His lips twitched at her concern. _Good ol' Ruby._ _"Not me love, I'm bringing someone in."_

_**"Right. Need me to get Granny up?"** _

_"No! No, she won't approve what I'm bringing in. I just need a quick patch job done, and then we can take her to hospital."_

_**"You're bringing a human here?"**_ She hissed, _ **"Have you lost your mind?"**_

_"Quite possibly. I'll explain when I get there. Get out the sewing kit."_

Ruby heaved a deep sigh into the phone. Code for Killian getting both interrogated and scolded later. _**"Anything else?"**_

_"Rum?"_

_**"Of course."** _

* * *

The back door to Granny's Diner swung open as Killian walked up. Ruby's long dark hair swinging in the effort, and Killian's libido gave an appreciative nod to her form. Best decision Killian ever made however, was to _not_ sleep with her. Not that he never wanted to. Anyone with a sexual orientation to females wanted to. But his lifestyle then, and even now, wasn't one he wanted to give her. He couldn't promise to be home, couldn't promise to be safe, couldn't even promise to be faithful if the work demanded it. Ruby was too good a woman to deny her anything less. Her Granny wasn't one you crossed either. Half-assed attempts at courting Ruby – however well intentioned– were stories of legend. And while Killian longed for the chance to walk away from his work and settle down, his employers weren't so eager to let him go. And they were only slightly more frightening than Granny. In the end, he gained a very demanding sister-like woman to fuss over him when he was in town, and an older woman to snap him in line when his ego got away from him. (The Christmas cards were a nice touch too.)

Ruby led them through the kitchen to the back room. A tiled room, with cabinets full of supplies and a stationary surgical table in the middle. As good as any walk-in clinic, if only slightly less equipped of the bigger machines. "Put her on the table I guess. Did you drug her?"

"No, she passed out from her injuries. Another one of our kind was about to make her his plaything. She lasted the entire chase and conversation I had with the bastard. She's strong, or stubborn. Likely both."

Ruby's pretty face pinched in confusion. "A job? You talked to the guy? Why didn't you just kill him?"

"I was waiting for this one to pass out or die –which she only decided to do after I needed her to stay awake– you know the rules Rubles. Exposure to the human world and all that."

Ruby nodded as she looked down to the woman. Killian could all but see the gears grinding and working in that pretty head, taking note of injuries and supplies they would be needing. Her brows pulled together in a frown, nostrils flaring as she took in the girl's scent. "No…"

Ruby brushed the hair from the girl's face, horror lit her features in a way Killian had never seen –nor wanted to again. "Ruby? What is it?"

"Granny!" Ruby howled.

Killian paled, Granny all but hated humans. He didn't risk his well-being with his employers, just for it to end now. He almost snatched the girl back off the table, but the panic from Ruby was overwhelming Killian's basic thought processes. He grabbed his friend instead, shaking her softly to bring her attention to him. " _Ruby!_ What? What is it?"

Tear filled eyes turned up to him. "It's Emma." Which explained exactly nothing to him at all.

The older woman charged through the door behind him, Ruby shifted her attention over his shoulder. "Granny, it's Emma."

Killian smelled fear from both the women now. It put him on edge. These two were afraid for –maybe of– the woman on the table. He turned to face Granny, wondering if he should be bodily blocking her from his rescued female. Though she smelled of fear, Granny's features were contorted into something closer akin to rage. Killian was nothing if not utterly confused. "Who the _bloody hell_ is Emma?"


	3. Sunshine and Gunpowder

**Chapter 2:**

**Sunshine and Gunpowder**

* * *

Granny's diner (while maintaining the necessary fixture upgrades all the current building codes demanded) was unchanged from its original formation of the 1930's –Granny's preferred human era. The diner itself took up most of the ground floor, giving human perception little to question about other, more concealed rooms. The surgery room (one of those rooms better left off unknown) was to the back and off the kitchen, for easy access to the alley behind and the anonymity with it. The office –also in towards the rear– served as Granny's alternate domain. There she wrangled the books for both the diner below and the apartments above of the same building. Granny owned it all, lock, stock, and barrel. _Granny's_ , as the diner was called, survived the test of time and American economics mostly because The Council made sure every wolf owned businesses had consistent foot traffic. Desperate wolves do violent things and all. New York State had two packs for the open areas (affectionately named "Up State" by the humans) while New York City and its surrounding boroughs were populated enough to warrant three packs with interlacing territories. It left no zone unchecked for supernatural complications –werewolf or otherwise. _Granny's_ was in the middle of the trifecta –though speculation of it being convenient happenstance or design varies upon whom you speak with– and she obstinately refused to belong to any pack, or follow any Alpha. Being obligated and dependent on another creature for her lively hood wasn't in Granny's nature, and as such, Pack life never did her –or the pack– any good. The Council tried to argue, bargain, and even threaten Granny into joining any pack, just to keep territory lines clearly defined. It was when Granny opened her doors to things other than humans and wolves that The Council relented. In the middle of a crossroads town, traveling Supernaturals finally had a haven. It was a move that eased tensions between more than just the Packs. Granny served any and all, so long as they followed her rules.

Lone wolves –much like Killian– were able to secure a place to rest without having to kiss ass to some Alpha for a night or two. Ruby insisted on maintaining an apartment just for him. Stubbornly (like her Grandmother) asserting there should always be room for family. Killian had accepted, if only to stay away from Pack Politics while he was already bogged down with an assignment. Initially, he had assumed she meant whatever vacant room was available, only to find a room steadily filling with furniture and no other scent but his own or Ruby's. His fridge would be stocked with fresh meats and foods for his first arrival, clean linens magically appeared soon after, and he wondered if his floor had ever seen more than a day's worth of dust. She had made him a home, and made sure to keep it as one. So of course, he fought her on it. Accusing her of such things like trying to guilt him into a relationship, followed up with the brilliant tactic of calling her virtues into question. She never hit him exactly, but managed an intricate flip that landed Killian on his back and the wind knocked from his lungs. It was the first time he saw the wolf in her eyes, first time he heard her wolf speak to him directly. First time someone had offered to be his family in so long. Killian never questioned sudden arrival of furniture again. Or Ruby for that matter.

He found himself in the same apartment (he still refused to admit it was his), nibbling on the first thing he grabbed from the fridge, pacing back and forth. Then he sat in a new recliner, leg bouncing in agitation, as he guessed the price for the newest installment and dumped equivalent money into an account in a bank somewhere in Europe. (He might not fight with her over it anymore, but he wasn't a welcher either.) And so on: pacing, laying down, pacing, nibbling, sitting, pacing some more. Living inside his head and all the possibilities the last eight hours have given him. He didn't even know how the girl fared at this point; they had kicked him out of the surgery room when he couldn't keep from asking questions about her –this Emma person. Then they forced him from the hallway just outside the door, claiming he was "pacing too loudly". Eventually Granny threatened to shoot him if he didn't go to his rooms and let them work. Not like the floors between them would even matter. Killian knew damn well that the old woman's hearing was as sharp as ever, maybe sharper, and could probably pick up his bowels digesting at this distance. And yet his mind danced in the same circles over and over:

_They knew the woman. How do they know some random female I found?_

_Should have left her. Should have finished the job._

_Could have dumped her at the hospital directly… but nooo you bloody git. You had to go and play hero for a minute._

_Emma… she had spirit… like Ruby's._

He had begun pacing again, his feet mimicking the same circles his mind was traveling in, until solid knocking had him spinning around. He hadn't closed his door, telling himself it was because the female might be dangerous and he had left the women to their fate. But there stood Granny, covered in drying blood, eyes shining amber in her emotional state. Killian very much wished to be anywhere else. It was a sick twist of Fate that they had known the woman he had brought in, and he was an unlucky sod to bring her in near dead. Granny was allowed her liberties due to an exceedingly frightening reputation, and not a living soul knew the absolute truth of it one way or another. Looking at her now, with an emotionally dead face and the fire of her wolf ascendant in her eyes, bathed in the stench of unknown blood, the swirl or emotions not even a seasoned tracker like himself could follow… Killian was partial to the believing the rumors were wretchedly understated. Granny didn't wait for an invitation before she carried herself into the living room, choosing to sit in the recliner he'd been in and out of all night. While she was sitting lower, the power play was hers. He was left to resume pacing or stand under her scrutiny like an ill-tempered child getting reprimanded for illicit behavior.

"Alright boy, you wanna tell me exactly how Emma ended up like that?"

"I _already_ told you. How about you tell me who the buggering fuck is Emma?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm going to let that slide pup. It's been a hell of a night for everyone. But I need you to give me all the details of tonight and how Emma got mixed up in it."

"You know I can't go into the details of the job Granny."

"You damn well are tonight. That girl on my table is my responsibility. If something is after Emma Swan, I get to know."

_Swan…_

Killian ran his hand through his hair. "A trade then? I tell you what happened, you tell me how you two know her."

"You first."

He huffed. If The Council found out he gave details, he was a pelt on wall. Or the new binding on the Book of Law. He didn't really need to know anything about this Emma. The precedence of Walsh returning to finish off a girl had yet to be set, being that he had managed to kill each previous acquisition. Walsh might not like that his pet was stolen from him, and Emma had made bloody well sure to make herself the perfect candidate for the role. Should the mongrel track Emma down, it could possibly lead the bastard right to the only people who kept Killian rooted to the world. On the other hand, Emma had been taken by a stronger wolf, Walsh might just as easily move on…

_Fuck._

"You've heard of that wolf killing the human girls, yes? Keeping a few of them as pets?"

"Sure. You know wolves can't keep secrets."

He glared at her. "Right. I was first tasked to find him and bring him in. His, 'habits', have picked up lately, and the orders changed. Dead dog walking. Your Emma was his mark last night. I followed them to Central Park. He changed partially, scared her, made her bleed, and let her run. It's his method. She fell, and he began molest her…"

"And you didn't think to stop him during any of that?" Granny's eyes flashed bright.

_Scared for her then…_

"No. Humans aren't my responsibility. She was providing him ample distraction and me the best opening to kill him. She ended up being the problem however."

"How was she a problem for two wolves?"

"This would go a lot smoother if you just let me tell the tale Granny." Killian finally met her eyes directly. Frustration rolling from both of them. She relented with a wave of her hand, letting him continue. "You know the rules. Minimum exposure. Should she survive, seeing the other wolf partially changed could be dismissed as shock. But two? I had to wait for her to succumb to her wounds, one way or another. Your Emma wouldn't even faint. She kept baiting him, insulting him. She must have figured I was some passer-by looking to help because she kept the focus on her. Even told me to run for my own life. She could barely breathe, and she kept at him…"

He momentarily got lost in the memory, rubbing his hands over his face. Getting angrier with the blonde each moment that passed. _Stupid girl…_

"Go on Killian." He ignored the softer tone she had taken.

"I lost my temper with the sodding prat of a pup. Let him know what he was dealing with, and he ran. I got to her side, lifted her, but she saw me. I hadn't changed, but I could guess from her scream that my eyes weren't their normal, striking blue. Damn her if she didn't choose _then_ to finally pass out."

"Why didn't you just dump her at the hospital?"

"Farther away for one. This might be New York, but I'm fairly certain wandering around with a bleeding body on my shoulders would have attracted attention, even with the night crowd. I needed to know how much she remembered besides. The human world might blow off her descriptions of the night, but the whispers back to Council would be hell to pay. Figured a quick patch job here and you two could say you found her wandering the back alleyway. I hadn't a clue that you might actually know her."

Granny looked him up and down. He hadn't changed clothes in the hours he had been waiting, and he had been walking the same plank of wood flooring as he told his part of the story. He could only guess what she was surmising in that ancient head of hers. "You're worried for her."

He gave her an incredulous glance. "I'm worried for my hide if this gets back to The Council improperly. I'm worried how this random human female knows the only wolves I could moderately call Pack. I'm worried I've gone soft since this whole thing wouldn't be an issue if I had just let her die."

"But you didn't."

Killian finally stopped in his pacing. Ducking his head and breathing in his nose, out his mouth. The night was almost gone. He wanted a shower. He wanted sleep. He wanted the whole thing done over. He waved his hand towards the still open door, "She lives then?"

"For now. She lost a lot of blood. Cracked a few ribs. They didn't puncture her lungs thankfully, those were just bruised. Left one nearly collapsed. We stitched up her back and her leg. You're lucky boy that I spent those decades as a surgeon's nurse. We sped her healing some with a trinket I keep on hand for emergencies. Back injuries can take months to heal, and I want this to be a memory long before then." She stuck her tongue in her cheek considering him again. "Ruby is with her now. We moved her to 4B. I suggest you go down the hall and sit with them both for a bit."

"I do believe you owe me the other half of this conversation."

"Not really mine to tell boy. I will say that Emma Swan is as dear to me as Ruby is." She considered him again. "Will this other wolf return for her?"

"I've no clue. None have survived him so far. He might come for her out of pride, or hide because of me."

Granny nodded. "Then I expect you to keep her as safe as you would either of us, more so since she isn't wolf." She rose from the recliner and gestured to his clothing.

"Burn those, and shower. I won't have you talking to Ruby covered in Emma's blood. See if you can't get her to go to bed for a few hours. Morning comes early."

"Aye Granny."

His front door finally shut.

* * *

4B wasn't a stand-by apartment like Killian had assumed. It was very much lived in. Magazines on the coffee table, dishes in the sink. The apartment was solid wood. Strong and stable. But it was decorated in soft fabrics of muted earth tones, lending it the comfort and peace one would want in a place they call home. Decorated to create a sanctuary and a source of strength to renew one's drive to continue on the next day. Killian had no idea whose home they were overtaking, but thought vaguely that it suited the Swan girl well. An odd though to have as the only thing he knew about her was her stubborn streak and sharp tongue.

_And her eyes. And her laugh. And I really need to stop thinking so much._

He moved through the moderate rooms till he found the bedroom. She was still face down, buried under a large comforter, Killian barely able to see her blonde hair peeking out on the pillow. It was half-wet; Ruby must have bathed the torment off of the girl. He rounded the bed, finding Ruby bedside and curled over the edge as much as she could be without being entirely on it, her hand alternating between petting Emma's hair and face. There was a slight tremble to Ruby's movements that only further worried Killian. Clearly, Emma wasn't only dear to Granny.

"You know she was only out last night because I begged her to be? Nagged her for weeks not to spend every night inside or working. She had finally caught this guy she'd been chasing, so I told her to go out and celebrate. I was supposed to meet up with her, but I canceled. I had heard you might be in town and wanted to straighten up your place for you."

Ruby's voice was soft and low, nearly a whisper. It tore at him. His Ruby wasn't the quiet type. She fought, she screamed… and his actions had made her small. He sat on floor next to her. Deliberately making himself lower than her. He gave her a moment before he rested his head on her thigh.

"I'm sorry love."

"Not your fault Killian. You didn't know any of this. Couldn't have." She choked back a few sobs. "Did Granny tell you how we know Emma?"

"No. Said it wasn't her tale to tell."

Ruby nodded. "She would make me tell it. Manipulative old bat."

He tilted his head to look up at her. Her eyes were red rimmed and her nose swollen. Cheeks pale yet flushed with the sorrow flooding from her. "I don't follow darling."

"Granny's idea of therapy. Make me talk about Emma, deal with memories. In case…"

Killian turned his head and nipped her leg. Understanding Granny's methods now. "You don't have to tell me anything that you don't want to. But Ruby, I do need to know how closely tied she is to our world. To you and Granny at the very least. I have no idea what this other wolf might do now."

Ruby sniffed back another set of tears. "Remember when I did that stint as a social worker?"

Killian nosed at her legged in affirmation.

"I found out early on, that I couldn't work the kids division. I kept getting attached and every time one of them came back beaten or misused… One night, I found myself standing outside a house of one man that was particularly brutal with little girls. I wanted him dead, wished his blood on the ground as I ripped him apart… So I transferred to the battered women's division. Easier on my hormones. Getting girls out from bad relationships, helping the police throw the bastards in jail. It was good work.

"But I would still see the kids filter through, meeting their case workers. I watched Emma come back, home after home. A sweet little blonde girl, you'd think a family would snatch her up quick. But she kept ending up in our office. No one kept her. Later, it was because she was running away, making it all the way to Oregon once. I asked her caseworker why someone wouldn't adopt her. All I ever got was a shrug and a stock answer. 'Not every home is a perfect fit.' Can you believe that shit?

"About 5 years ago, she came into the diner. I didn't know it was her right away; I never got a good marker on her scent, not that it would really matter. She hadn't washed in some time. Her hair was limp and shades darker than it should have been. She almost looked feral; she had been scraping by with less than nothing for a couple years by that point. She tried to cause a distraction at the far end of the bar, so she could hit the register. All after she had eaten about half the menu. Granny wanted to call the cops, but when I finally got a decent look at her, I holed her away in the office. Talked Granny down, which wasn't easy by any means.

"I offered Emma a deal. She could work here, work off the damages, and maybe stay on if she was good enough. We could spare her a room if she didn't have anywhere else to go. She looked at me like I was from Oz. Turned out she was the worst waitress I'd ever seen. She dropped more meals, than meals that were actually ordered. We put her at the bar, but that became a sea of shattered glass. It was so bad. But she was smart… _is_ smart. She squirreled away every paycheck, every tip, every penny she found on the ground outside the building. She went to a vocational school. Said regular college was a waste of her time. Said she didn't need all the extra debt to learn something that she'd never use, when she could spend less, and learn a trade that would help her now. Always promised to at least go and get her general education degree later, when the money was better."

Killian understood now. Emma was Ruby's sister, was Ruby's niece. Emma was Ruby's family in every definition Ruby had. And Ruby wasn't a wolf to let go of pack easily, regardless of the species they hailed from. "What vocation did she settle on?"

Ruby chuckled, "Bail bondsman. Bonds-person if you asked her. She does what you do, just without fur."

Killian chuffed. "She sounds like one hell of a human Ruby."

They sat in silence for some time. Killian unsure of how to continue on. Everything was already so convoluted. _Still…_

"Does she know what you –what _we_ are Ruby?"

Ruby sighed. "No, though I wouldn't put it passed her to suspect something is up. If not now, then she'll ask questions later when time has passed on, and I haven't visibly aged. Or if something else happens and she falls into our world." She finally let Emma from her sight and looked at him –though her hands still held the girl in one manner or another. "Killian? What happened last night?"

"Without too many details? A wolf gone insane targeted your Emma. I don't know how this will fall out yet. I have been instructed by a very old and cantankerous wolf, that I am to make sure Emma comes to no harm. But Ruby, I cannot make promises like that right now. The only promise I can make is to see this through to the end."

He was awarded a smile. "It'll work out. Emma is strong, and you Killian, never give up."

Silence settled over them again. Ruby carding one hand through Killian's hair, the other hand lacing fingers with Emma. He almost felt a surreal sense of contentment, wondering if it would still be the case if the Swan girl weren't half-shredded and still un-woken. As loathe as he was to end this moment, he still had one more promise to fill. So he rose from the floor at Ruby's feet, dragging her hand into both of his own.

"Ruby. You need sleep. Especially if your friend wakes and needs you. I'll take watch till you or Granny relieves me of duty."

"I don't know…"

"I swear to be vigilant and sound the alarm if she rouses on my watch. Now go."

Ruby gave another fearful glance to her friend. As if she would disappear without Ruby there to hold her to the world. She relented however, rising and kissing Emma's cheek. Whispered secrets low enough that even Killian's ears couldn't pick them up.

"Three hours. I'll be back in three hours." A pointed finger waggling in his face.

He hugged Ruby then. "Aye, though don't fret if you take more."

"Good boy."

He gave a gentle shove to move her to the bedroom door. A smile tugging at the corners of his lips. A smile that faded slightly as he took Ruby's seat at Emma's bedside. She looked so young cocooned in the pillows and blanket. He studied her face and began counting each little thread that connected them together, his mind twisting under it all. He believed in coincidences, but not when there were so many. And certainly not when so many were cultivating on one night. He wanted to know why Fate was directing him to this girl, and why now. At least, he hoped it was Fate. He abhorred being maneuvered by living creatures.

He shifted a section of hair that had fallen down over Emma's face. She was clearly beautiful, though the jury was still out on whether she was prettier like this, or covered in mud. "Just who are you Swan?"

Every creature has a scent unique unto them. All it takes is a decent sense of smell to find it. Killian's was well developed; exactly why The Council had him employed as they did. He wasn't the best tracker by most definitions, but he was extremely adept at finding that unique marker and tracking it through the densest assortment of scents and over great distances. One moment to properly commit it to memory, and he would be able to find his quarry no matter how far they tried to get away from him. If his life was going to be working around this girl for a while, he at least should be able to find her. He leaned in, and breathed. He smelled the simple soap Ruby had used. A plain soap with no hints of flavors. He smelled the fresh blood pumping along her stitches, healing the damage. He smelled the antiseptic Granny had used to clean the wounds, and the after burn of the magic used. And then he found her, buried down and deep into her skin. Sunshine and gunpowder. Killian leaned in closer, the woman actually smelled of the sun and firearms. He couldn't stop the smile that broke over his face. Nor did he notice that in his eagerness to find her, his nose had become pressed under her jaw line, brushing the soft skin in a slow caress, where her pulse beat out strong.

Not till another scent broke through the air.

His body was upright and arching over the bed, feeling the change coming over him faster than he could understand why. He roared at the intruder and was met in kind. Two male wolves squared off in the little bedroom over the still unconscious form of one Emma Swan. Both Ruby and Granny rushed in shortly after. Ruby bodily covering Emma, and Granny between two very dominant males.

"What's this asshole doing here?" Demanded the intruder.

"None of your business _Alpha!_ " Killian used the title with all the respect of a child. "Might ask you the same thing."

_**"BOTH OF YOU! BACK DOWN OR SO HELP ME, I'LL NEUTER YOU SLOWLY WITH THE BUTTER KNIVES!"**_ Whatever her reputation might say, there are very real reasons people don't cross Granny.

Liking his bits where they were, Killian eased back his wolf a fraction. Though he wouldn't entirely. Not for all of Granny's threats. Not for this prat.

"Granny, mind telling me what this _packless_ , joke of a dog is doing here?"

"Yes Granny, right after you tell me why this _simpering puppy_ is here after a night like last night."

Granny growled. They both back down a fraction more.

"Killian, I called him." Ruby interjected. "He knows Emma. I didn't know if you'd be taking right off again to chase the guy who did it. I thought she could use as many friendly faces if… _when…_ she wakes up." She slipped from the protective placement she had taken over Emma, sliding to the end of the bed and up on her knees; directly between the men and right next to her Granny. Her hand reached back to touch the girl's leg, still unable to fully let go of her human, and her eyes locking in on Alpha's. Not threatened even a fraction of the wolf that should make her cower in a corner.

_There's the Ruby I need._

"Killian brought her in. She was attacked by one of our kind, and he brought her here, brought her home. We owe him _thanks_ , Graham."


	4. Truth and Posturing

**Chapter 3:**

**Truth and Posturing**

* * *

In Emma's bedroom, there was a Mexican Standoff of sorts. Killian with his claws drawn and hovering over the Swan girl; Graham at the bedroom door mirroring Killian's position. Granny poised at the foot of Swan's bed, evenly placed between the males; Ruby still on the bed and straddling Emma's legs as the last line of defense between the aggressions of the older wolves. It was plain that they all had the same agenda of keeping the girl safe, even if their individual means to do so varied. Killian acknowledged the ridiculous redundancy of it –somewhere in his mind. Not that it changed his stance near Emma's bed, nor did it allow his eyes to falter from watching the ponce of an Alpha.

Granny's frustration sounded again, "Ruby, take these two idiots somewhere else. I don't care if they eat each other, but they won't do where Emma can see."

"Yes Granny." Ruby eased off the bed with pleading looks to both Graham and Killian, striding out the door with a straight back and full confidence that the men would follow.

Neither male moved to follow.

"After you, _loner_." Graham settled his hands on his hips.

Killian rested on his heels, gripping his belt buckle with one hand, waving the other through the air flippantly. "No, no. I insist. You first, _Alpha_."

Granny heaved a breath in her exasperation. "Somebody better go first, not that it matters who… since I'm still right here and there are butter knives in the kitchen not thirty feet away."

"Of course Granny." Graham conceded first, though it was more an act of dismissal than subservience, making his way to wherever Ruby had gone.

Killian remained, thumb digging hard into his belt and hand clenching at his side. The wolf within begging to come out and play. Too much excitement in too few hours. Chasing after Graham and ripping him a few new ones would settle a multitude of his nerves, but his feet remained firmly rooted to Swan's bedside.

"Go boy. Settle it before she wakes up."

He closed his eyes and swallowed. Willing his body to calm down. "Aye. Apologies Granny, I-"

"Save it boy. Go. I'll watch her."

He looked between Emma and Granny, the implications of his reaction to Graham's entrance finally settling in. Or rather, Granny's interpretation of them. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the wolf back down. Arguing with Granny was not on his agenda for this decade. He stormed from the room, very much wanting a bottle of rum.

_Manipulative old bat indeed._

* * *

Killian found them down in the diner. Graham seated on a stool, shot glass and a bottle of dark liquor in front of him. Ruby standing opposite behind the bar, leaning over the counter on her forearms. The quiet whispers passing frantically between them ending as he took the final step off the stair.

"Oh… don't stop on my account."

Graham turned his head. "Ruby tells me you're here on Council business?"

"Aye. Which makes it none of yours." Killian stopped in his path, placing his hand to buckle and weight to heels once more. Of course it was an unnecessarily juvenile posture, but he'd lost the remainders of his patience for the whole affair quite some time ago. Ruby saw his childishness as well, chastising him for it like the sister she couldn't help being.

Graham waved off her admonishment. "No Ruby, its fine. I can always make inquiries myself. Why one of Council's mongrels lost track of a target, got a bystander nearly killed, and risked exposure on numerous occasions… all in what? Six hours? I'm sure I'd get the answers I want then."

Killian snarled, "Mac bastaird de fraochÚn"

Graham shrugged at the insult, knocking back another shot of whiskey. Ruby placed a fresh glass and the bottle of rum out for Killian, urging him to join them at the bar. He did, left of Graham, keeping an open seat between them. Moments passed with only the liquor gracing their tongues causing Ruby to lose her patience with the testosterone.

"If you two aren't even going to try, then I might have a suggestion." Both males shifted their attention to her, wincing under her glare. "Graham, Killian is tracking a bad one. Really bad, if Granny's rumors are true."

Killian's head hit the counter. _Wolves can't keep secrets, her own sodding words._

Ruby frowned at him. "Whoever it was attacked Emma last night. Problem is, the guy might come back. Killian needs to stick around in case he does."

"And if I unknowingly scare him off because I'm in proximity?" Killian scoffed, his words muffled from his face buried into the Formica. "I'd be floating around here accomplishing nothing."

She sighed, arching a brow with his complaining. "If I may? Conduct your search like you normally would from your apartment. Graham can help you with his own resources if it starts looking like the guy moved on. Meanwhile, you'll need an inroad with Emma. Graham is your best shot. Friend from the old country or something."

"Why can't we just stick to the truth and say I'm an old friend of yours?" Killian finally raised his head. He was becoming exhausted. Things were already complicated and intricate. Making them more so wasn't something he was willing to do. Least of all when it meant interlacing his life with the wolf on his right.

"Because I've never mentioned you. She'd be suspicious faster than we could finish the lie."

"Really? Never even once?"

Ruby flicked Killian's nose. Graham snickered. "Focus doofus. That's another thing; watch what you say to her. She's almost as good as a wolf when it comes to lies. You two are going to have to plan this out for it to work."

Graham wrinkled his nose. "Or Killian could simply do his job, hunt the bastard down, and leave Emma well enough alone."

"Is that jealousy I smell Humbert? Afraid she might enjoy the company of a low-born scoundrel like me?"

"Not at all. Just want to save her from a rabid case of fleas and whatever current STD you've contracted."

They resumed their growling; Ruby reached further over the counter, slapping them on the backs of their heads. "If the guy is staying in town, Killian will have to stay close to track him. And if the guy is still after her, then Killian will have to be closer. Emma will notice him eventually and probably sooner than that. It would be a whole new set of problems none of us need."

Graham swallowed another shot, closed his eyes, and hung his head. "Fine. But not right now. Tomorrow. And we wait a day after she wakes to introduce him. Give her time to come out of it."

"I need to know how much she remembers _mate_."

"And I will find out for you. She'd open up to me long before she'd speak in front of you. You don't know her, I do." He shoved his shot glass to Ruby, "I'm going to go take a turn watching her. Get some sleep Ruby; she's going to need you." He took the stairs two at a time.

Killian stared at the glass Graham had left behind. "I smelled jealousy right? He's sprung on the Swan girl?"

"Yeah."

"So he doesn't know that you-"

"No."

Silently Ruby put the liquor away before climbing the stairs after Graham to her own rooms. Killian's head hit the counter again, cursing himself for playing hero.

* * *

Emma had woken just before noon the next day, screams ripping from her throat as she tried to sit up. Graham pinned her to the bed while Ruby tried to calm her down; Killian standing in their shared hallway vibrating in his skin to help. In the end Emma simply passed out from the pain and Granny was called to stitch her up in a few places again. It was decided to give her stronger meds to try and keep her down one more day. If only to buy them all a little more time. Killian –unable to do anything for the Swan girl– was left with the unfortunate task of making a situation report to his handler. An unpleasant woman who tolerated very little. He kept his e-mail as detail specific as possible, wishing on air that she wouldn't do more than glance at it. It wasn't the first time Walsh had moved on before Killian could successfully make his play. Simply the first time he had made his play and lost the mark after. With a witness. He damned his decision to save the Swan girl with each tap to his keyboard, a decision that kept spiraling further out of his control; even if the regret of it had yet to show up.

It was less than ten minutes after clicking "send" that he received his reply, causing a trickle of fear to roll its way down his spine.

_**You chose her, and the consequences of that decision. Fix this, before I decide we have no further use of you. ~C** _

Killian swore, and for more than the threat he was just given. (Though that alone would be enough to send Killian's mouth on a foul torrent of profanity.) "If you are going to make me suffer your stench Humbert, you might as well enter and discontinue your lurking outside my door."

Graham leaned partially in. "Heard the typing, figured you were busy. If you're finished now though…"

Killian set aside his laptop with a thud. "Aye. To what do I owe the pleasure, oh great Alpha?"

Graham huffed, hands settling on his hips. "Turn it off for a few moments? Emma is fighting her way back, waking for a few minutes here and there. Granny can only able to keep her sedated for so long. We have to figure out our story now."

"Of course. Any ideas?" Killian motioned to the chair at his table, encouraging Graham to at least join him rather than pace the floors.

"Thank you." Graham mumbled, sliding into the offered seat. His fingers immediately drumming on the table surface. "You don't think Ruby's idea of old friend will work right?" Killian's right eyebrow bowed itself high on his forehead. "Didn't think so. CEO of my overseas office?"

The eyebrow came back down and furrowed with its neighbor. "And have to learn any of that jargon you use to make it passable? Not bloody likely."

Graham slouched, irritated with the constant dismissal. "Then why don't you come up with something?"

Killian hesitated. He only had one idea so far, and frankly, he couldn't stomach it much himself. "You won't like it."

"I have to pretend to be pleasant with you in the room. I'm not liking _any_ of it."

Killian sighed. "Siblings. Or family of some sort."

"We look nothing alike Killian. And we can't stand each other."

"I can be a cousin or a half-brother if you like. Bastard son somewhere in the line. We both know that the arguing and dirty looks won't stop because Swan will be awake; she's bound to see the animosity. All of which is easier to play off if we're relatives; families bicker all the time. We keep the details as close to reality as we can. We didn't grow up together, so we don't have to fake knowing all the little details."

Graham nodded slowly. "And you're in town why?"

"Fresh start in the new world. And you graciously opened up your home as a favor to the family."

Graham pursed his lips in consideration. "You're right, I don't like it."

"And if it turns out that the wolf is hanging around, we can fake my moving into my own apartment here because I couldn't handle living with a prat like you." Killian looked over the Alpha, clicking his tongue and ducking his head. "I have to know though Humbert. Does she know-"

"That I'm wolf? Of course not."

"That you have feelings for her. I'd hate to say something off-handedly and cause yet another issue for us to deal with."

Graham's jaw set in a hard line, sitting straighter in his chair. "Yes… no… Honestly, I'm not sure what it is _I_ feel; let alone what she's picked up on. I feel protective of her, and I care for her. Some days I…" A hand ran through his curly hair. "I'm sure she's picked up on something, but she's never said a word about it. Never made a move one way or another. So I haven't either."

"I see." Killian brought his head back up, "So she's single then?"

Graham's eyes flashed citrine and a growl sounded from deep in his chest.

Killian laughed. "Easy mate. Can't blame a bloke for trying."

"You'd do well not to try a damn thing."

"I promise to be every inch the scoundrel I am." Killian leaned back, mirroring Graham in his own chair. "However, I won't press the lady Swan into even a conversation about the weather, if _she_ doesn't wish it."

Graham nodded, rising from his chair. He made it halfway to the door before he turned around. "You know all of this planning is for nothing if she remembers everything from that night."

"Should she remember her attack, or more importantly, me… then plans change."

"I'll kill you before you have a chance to report to The Council that she does."

"We still might need her to flush out this psychotic bastard. We have time to figure it all out. Swan is safe."

The two unsaid words hung between them. Graham left. Killian opened his computer again. Not one for being idle, he renewed his search of the bastard Walsh.

* * *

Emma slowly became aware of her body, feeling first like it was trapped inside a body bag; her movements constricted and smothered. She'd freak, if she didn't feel like she was floating at the same time. An odd sensation, to say the least. Gradually, a burning feeling joined the party, spreading over her back. It was a passing thought that she might be on fire, but the thought didn't bring along the strength to check, or the will to care. She didn't need to worry; the world had lost the light and gone pitch black. She was safe in the darkness, having learned to hide in it long ago; it was a comforting blanket that kept the bad things away. When she was much smaller, she would use the darkness to hide from the other kids who didn't like sharing their home with her. Or the women who would throw things at her when the chores weren't done as they wanted. The men who thought she was such a sweet little girl…

_"Your blood is sweet Emma."_

Walls blended into trees, floors morphed into grass and dirt, and the ceilings faded into dying leaves blocking and empty sky. Glowing eyes shifted behind the shadows, edging their way closer as the distinct smell of dog and the hard sound of panting assaulted her tiny haven of comforting darkness. The heat at her back became oppressive, sucking the air from her lungs for its own needs.

_"Is the rest of you just as sweet? Sweet and soft?"_

Trees and dogs switched again putting Emma back in home number five and _he_ was touching her hair. Emma struggled against the memory, forcing it back down where it was supposed to be buried, but then _he_ became a shorter man with shaggy hair speaking the same words. The new man was digging into her leg. Red eyes on a distorted head, and Emma felt so small, whimpering with the pain.

_"I'll be taking the lady…"_

Red faded to white, panic found its release, and Emma exploded in screams to push away the bad things.

" _Emma!_ Emma sweetheart wake up!"

The world was so dark…

"Please Emma wake up for me. Open your eyes!"

_Open?_

The wild dark retracted from her mind, and her surroundings opened to reality. She lay face down in a bed. Everything hurt. She wanted to move, but there were hands and weight holding her down.

"Come on Emma; just open your eyes for me."

She moved her lips instead to tell whoever was on top of her to move, but words were impossible with her tongue feeling swollen in her mouth and the sides of her throat sticking to itself in thirst.

"Ok, ok. You want to talk? You have to open your eyes to get the water for it."

Brain cell finally started speaking to brain cell, allowing her nerves to accomplish the task and let Emma do as she was bid. The bed was her own, an orange light was peeking from behind drawn curtains and Ruby's smiling face was in front of her.

"There she is. Water yeah?" Emma nodded what little she could move her head. "Ok, DO NOT try to get up. I'll explain everything, but you need to stay still right now. Yeah?"

Emma nodded again, rewarded with a straw to her lips. Ruby was quick to remove it before Emma could get more than half a swallow; Ruby only allowing small sips when all Emma wanted to do was gulp. The last bits of brain fog filtering off as Ruby rehydrated Emma, the pain of her burning back taking the vacant space confusion had left behind. Emma attempted to move again, wanting to shake off the last images stuck in her head, only to be held down with large insisting hands.

"Now now… you promised Emma."

Emma blinked. Ruby's mouth hadn't moved to make the words, and it was abnormally deep for a woman. The seconds ticked as Emma slowly realized the voice didn't belonging to Ruby at all, but a man positioned somewhere behind her. It was familiar enough, its tones bringing a level of comfort Emma felt herself craving, but Emma couldn't sort out the face it matched with.

Ruby snorted, "I told you, you'd been away too long Graham. She doesn't even remember your voice."

Those same hands holding her down gave a gentle squeeze to her upper arms. "Guess this means I should move in. Fair warning, I don't do my own laundry. If you don't want it everywhere, you'll have to wash it for me."

Emma groaned, "I hate you both." Her voice was rough to her ears. Like she hadn't used it in a few days. "How long have I been out?"

Ruby's face fell a tad. "A while. Not that you stayed that way. You woke early this morning and tried to move, caused a little extra damage to yourself, so we gave you some drugs to keep you down a little longer." Ruby's lips moved to speak, the sounds hesitating and Emma knew things were bad if Ruby was being picky with her words. "Emma… you were hurt the night you caught that Felix kid. Do you remember anything?"

"Right now all I know is that I need to pee and I have an idiot holding me down. Can it wait?"

Graham scrambled off of her as quickly as he could without jarring her further, backing away to the door to give the women proper privacy. "Right then, I'll just wait in the kitchen."

Ruby was looking her over. "You know you're wearing an adult diaper right?"

"Sure, but even if I wanted to take advantage of it, I wouldn't in front of him. Help me up?"

"Emma, you have stitches in your back. Moving you isn't a good idea."

"Ruby. Help me to the toilet, or I'll try to do it by myself."

Graham was eventually called back in to carry her, Ruby staying in the restroom to help with the smaller details. Emma pressed for a full list of injuries, forcing Ruby to work some hand mirrors so she could see the damage without needing to twist or bend. The quick break of using the bathroom ended up taking a little over and hour with everything needing to be done carefully; Graham made his manly grumbles about girls traveling in pairs to the bathroom and taking forever once there.

Emma patted his cheek, "That's why we needed you back. All us girls together."

She giggled at his scowl, feeling a bit silly now that her biological needs had been dealt with. It took some haggling, but Emma managed to convince them to let her sit up in the bed, so long as she agreed to let Graham sit behind her to take her weight. It was awkward with his legs long and bent on either side, cradling her in and far more intimate than she was used to, but Emma was not in the mood to lie down anymore. Graham remained careful not to aggravate her injuries further, shifting when she did so as not to touch the stitches. He felt warm; he was always warm, and it eased through her aches and pains just as well as any heating pad.

Emma snickered, patting him on his leg. "You're a chair. A girl chair."

His leg twitched under her hand. "And you're buzzing a bit aren't you?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I had a traumatic experience and I'm happy to be in the same room with my two friends."

Her words caused two things to fall in the room, Graham's head to her less painful shoulder, and Ruby's face.

Ruby reached a hand out to Emma's leg, gripping it for both their sakes. "How much do you remember Emma?"

"Not sure? I'm not sure if I'm remembering it or a bad drug induced dream." Emma didn't like lying to them. But she like being called crazy even less. Saying a guy –who looked like half a dog– attacked her, tried to rape her, and then she was rescued by another guy who had his own strange eyes… she wasn't a fan of four padded walls with a locked door. Unable to lie directly to Ruby's face, Emma lowered her eyes to her lap, fiddling with the pillow resting there. She missed the silent conversation happening around her, a questioning look from Ruby, and a shake of the head Emma mistook as nuzzling from Graham. "Can we talk about this another time guys? I don't think I'm ready to relive any of it yet."

Graham squeezed his legs in an attempt to hug her without touching her more. "Would you like to be alone then?"

Emma reached behind and scratched Graham's head. "No. It's late in the day, yeah? Movie night? If the two of you don't have plans already."

Ruby rose and grabbed Emma's hands, kissing the knuckles on both. "You are our only plan right now Emma. You want movies? You get movies. And if Graham had plans of being anything other than your chair, he can cancel them."

Said living chair heaved a dramatic sigh. "If I must, I must. But that means I have a few calls to make, and you chair needs to use the loo before it embarrasses itself. So You, Miss Emma, get to lie back down until I return."

Ruby beamed at them both. "I'll go downstairs and get some food set up for us, and I'm sure Granny will want a moment with you too Ems."

"I thought I said I _didn't_ want to be alone, and now you're both leaving me?" Warm laughter filled the room. _This is normal. This is safe._ "Fine. Go. Just leave me my laptop so I can check my mail."

They helped her back onto her stomach, propping pillows in all sorts of locations to help relieve pain. Each planting a kiss on her hair before they left the room. Emma waited a moment before loading her usual programs, entering "Walsh Singe" into all of them. She had made the mistake of trusting him, of trusting herself. As much as she liked still being alive, leaving her that way was _his_ mistake. She turned off computer so any notifications wouldn't ping with Graham or Ruby in the room. And so Emma could be honest if asked, she did in fact go through her emails, even opened her Tumblr dashboard to kill time with funny animal gifs.

The first few notifications pinged through twenty minutes later; Emma smiled each time her screen lit up for one.

* * *

Killian was in his bathroom, cleaning up for his night out. Hearing his computer ping a few times, he walked to his dining table where he was moderately set up now. City maps and brochures to a few clubs littered the tabletop. He'd barely caught a glance the screen's contents when Graham waltzed in. A movement dramatically halted with Graham's hands flying up to shield his eyes.

"Christ man! Hang a towel or close your bloody door! Anybody could walk by and see that!"

Killian grinned. "And chance deprive a fair woman from such a view?"

"Just put some pants on!"

"These are my rooms Humbert; I can be without attire if I choose."

Graham let off a few growls, and Killian only chuckled, walking his way to the bedroom. "Fine, fine. I assume you're here about Miss Swan then? I heard her screaming earlier."

"Yes, she remembers something, just not willing to talk about it yet. Ruby and I are going to sit with her most of the night watching movies. We'll push again tomorrow. Think you can avoid her another day?"

"Leave a pretty girl like that alone? It would be a strain on someone like meself, but I shall try with all earnest." Killian returned to the room, adjusting the cuffs on his button-down. "I'd say I'm decent once again, but we'd both know that's a lie. However, I am clothed."

Graham lowered his hands just a fraction to make sure, only to drop them entirely as he looked Killian over. "You look nice… why do you look nice?"

"And here I thought you'd finish that by asking for my hand. Tsk." Killian moved to the table posing as a workstation. Sitting down to work on his shoes.

"Has anyone, ever, had a straightforward conversation with you? Where you simply talk and refrain from innuendos and sarcasm?"

"Possibly." Killian sighed, waving a hand through the air. "I'm going out. Might have a lead of the wolf. He likes social scenes and I need to blend in."

Graham looked at him again. "Right… Text me. Let me know."

"Of course Alpha." Killian rose, peaking at the computer screen.

Graham rolled his eyes and made for the open door.

"The Lady Swan? You didn't tell me how she fared."

Graham stopped, giving Killian his third appraising look in a matter of minutes. "Hurt, but mending. Scared if that nightmare she had means anything. But she's a fighter, already back to telling us what to do. I'm just happy she's not out there chasing the guy yet."

Killian nodded as Graham took his leave, distracted by a new window popping up on his computer screen. Someone else was conducting a search on his wolf. And Killian was fairly certain it was the stubborn blonde in 4B.

_Oh she's fighting Humbert. More than you want her to._

Killian grinned. He was really beginning to like this human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Walsh's last name of Singe is French (according to google translate) for monkey. Pronounced, it sounds like SAN-ge. OR you could go look it up and hear it yourself.


	5. Mutiny and Distraction

**Chapter 4:**

**Mutiny and Distraction**

* * *

It had become a simple routine. Killian would saunter through the alley entrance to the diner as the sky was just paling for the sun, tired and irritated from his nighttime excursions of sliding through rancid human locations. Ruby would meet him with a plate of food, and together they would sit for breakfast while exchanging information on the wolf he hunted and the human she cared for, then Killian would retire for the rest of the morning. Graham would wake as the sun crested the horizon, to make his way down from his temporary living space, Ruby handing over another plate and a cup of coffee before reciting the update from Killian. They all had a love/hate relationship with this routine. The men got to avoid each other, but it left Ruby to play messenger. Though it gave her a chance to have quiet moments with both men, the men felt their control on the situation was tentative at best. Killian himself felt this cycle kept him running around in circles, achieving nothing for the efforts other than his own exhaustion. The human nightlife barely covered his boredom, and the women he would traditionally dally with couldn't cut through his ever-growing anxiety over the living variable stashed away in the above apartments, like a princess in a tower.

His handler had given him a deadline, the absolute cherry to everything; if he couldn't pick up Walsh's trail in the next two weeks; someone else would pick up Killian's. It was a generous amount of time honestly, but Walsh had gone deep, forcing Killian to widen his search. It meant he would have to swallow a portion of his pride and ask to use Graham's resources. He wasn't sure which he hated more, having lost the target so much that he had his first deadline since his starting days working for The Council... or conceding to using Graham's help. So it was during another routine morning in the booth with Ruby, that Killian debated his possible approaches to the Alpha over finally getting the Princess to talk. Weighing each as an evil to purge, hoping to find one that didn't cost him too much. Eventually it became clear that the biggest evil to purge was the chocolate haired demon he was sitting with as she repeatedly kicked his feet and shins. (She nearly made him spill his coffee. Twice.)

"Alright Ruby. What is it?" He growled as he set his cup down to it saucer, wincing to the clattering noise it made. He knew well what Granny did to her patron's that chipped her serving ware.

"I was going to ask you the same thing. Last couple days you've been more anxious than normal. What changed?"

He glanced at her. Eyes wide and open like a child's, a face full of concern and implied innocence. He bought none of her act, feigning wide, surprised eyes as a response to her trick. "Someone keeps making me spill my coffee."

She snorted. "Try again."

He sighed, "You know I can't give you details Rubles."

She tilted her head to the side, eyes shifting over his face. Ruby could read facial tics like he could lock in a scent. "You're thinking of pressing Emma, aren't you?"

"It would relieve some of the external stress we will all end up feeling… but Graham still delays the introduction." Killian wave to the ceiling. "Just how long do all of you to expect her to remain locked up?"

"Till she's healed and that guy is dead, if it was my way." She didn't even try to hide the bloodlust in her voice, reminding him briefly of Granny.

"And if it was Humbert's way?"

"In the middle of the Pack House, with my people surrounding her until that wolf's blood fed the earth." The Alpha's voice drifted from the stairs before he came to the landing.

Killian hung his head; he was far too tired to deal with Humbert at this hour. Least of all when the Alpha stood next to the table in a three-piece suit, looking every inch the owner of an international agency. But it was the soft sincerity to Graham's words, or even possibly the fact that Graham believed that the Princess would be ok with such an action that really dug inside Killian. The woman he rescued hadn't been the damsel in distress; she had just been outmatched in weaponry. "And she's content with this… coddling?"

Graham shrugged, adjusting his cuffs. "She hasn't said otherwise."

"I see." He chanced a glance to Ruby, who had remained quiet since Humbert's arrival. She only wiggled her nose at his perusal. A sign to drop it. "Listen mate, I'm going to need you to use those wonderful head hunting skills of yours and see if you can't find something on a national scale. If he's moved on I need a direction where."

"Not a problem. Just fax what you can to my office. Give me through the weekend and I should have something."

"And Miss Swan? I should probably be intro-"

"I see no reason forcing the memories on her if you won't be staying. She could very well be blocking them out and seeing you might trigger them back into the front of her mind. If they are locked away, and you're leaving, then it's better all-around that you keep your distance."

"It was your idea to piece together a cover story the moment she started waking _Alpha_."

"And I hated the idea to start with."

Ruby dropped her fork. "Hey…"

"I'll help track the guy down. But I'm not putting Emma's well-being at risk over this if it doesn't have to be. We're leaving her alone unless we have no other choice. Let her rest and heal. I have work to get to; if that was everything then I'll be on my way. I'll be waiting for your fax Killian." The weight of the Alpha filled the room; his decision made.

More than asking Humbert for his assistance, Killian hated having his decisions made for him. "You can't just–"

"I can and did." Graham strode out, leaving no room for discussion. Reminding Killian why he continued to agree to The Council's stipulations of no Pack allegiances.

Killian felt his jaw ticking away. "Not to be judgmental Rubles, but _that_ guy? Really?"

Her shoulders bounced in a shrug as she smiled slightly. "You know he means well. He's scared for her. Of what you might have to do if she remembers too much."

Killian resisted the urge to yell at the walls. Instead he ran his hands through his hair. "I think you'd both do well to stop underestimating her."

Her head tilted again. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Killian stood up, tossing back the rest of his coffee. "I'm getting some sleep. I'll see you this evening."

He took the stairs two at a time, letting habit and muscle memory guide his strides rather than conscious thought. There were so many rules that everyone was forgetting, so many loopholes they could exploit. But none of them mattered until he could get a read on her. A conversation, sit in the room and listen to her talk… anything as long as he could gauge her reactions to her new reality so he could best determine his next path. He was lost deep into imagined arguments with half a dozen people that it took Killian a moment to realize the feet he had trusted had delivered him to the wrong door. The apartment designation of 4B taunted him as much as the smell of the breakfast they had delivered only an hour prior. He stepped closer to the doorjamb, breathing deep through the paper-thin gap between door and frame. He found that scent –her scent– again. She was awake and moving around. He faintly heard her cussing through what he supposed was a stretching exercise. A smile broke for the first time in days at her show of spirit. A glimmer of hope ran through him that he wouldn't have to press the issue of meeting her, that she'd force Humbert's hand for them all.

* * *

Days had passed since she woke up. Emma was physically able to do very little, so she was allowed to do even less. She wasn't mad, per se, but _oh_ was she getting there. Graham and Ruby anticipated just about everything she wanted and delivered it to her apartment door, if she was lucky. (There's only so much Emma can fit on the bed with her God Dammit.) She felt confined and trapped in her own home. She felt… _kept_. Yes, she was injured and could barely put on her own shirt. Yes, the bandages on her leg left out just about every pair of pants she owned. She was reduced to wearing every pair of pj's –she ever owned in her adult life– within those days. Yes, showering was a hassle because her hair needed washing and there were angles her shoulders just didn't want to allow yet. Which left Ruby or Granny to help her like she was five years old. But for all of her understanding, she couldn't stop the aggravation from bubbling up every time she thought about her medically induced confinement. She wanted to scream till her lungs burned again, throw and break things to use up the energy she had collecting inside her. She was only able to stop herself from a well-deserved tantrum because it would only get Graham bursting into her rooms with his soft eyes and gentle touches playing psychologist for her efforts. She loved Graham, she did. But she wanted nothing more than to box his ears when he used that part of his personality on her. Emma had witnessed said abilities firsthand when a stray animal or two had wondered close enough. His voice would drop into something soothing, and she would swear on her life each animal understood the words he used, doing exactly as he bid them to do; managing complete compliance from them. The fact that he was trying the same tactics every time she had a nightmare or panic attack... he was quickly making himself someone she didn't want to see. However good his intentions.

She didn't want to sit and talk about it. She wanted to be able to move so she could go and find the asshole that did this in the first place.

She didn't want to cry or deal. She wanted cuffs on the guy's wrists. Maybe a bullet in his brain.

Ok, ok. She _was_ mad.

Logically, she accepted everything they were doing was done out of love and concern. She knew it. She understood it. She believed this truth, and felt grateful to have people who cared. But it wasn't helping _her_.

So she did exactly what they had told her not to.

Her programs ran, collecting data on the name he had given her. There was plenty of data coming through, giving her a nice little collection to sort through at night, narrowing down possibilities of where she could find him again. And if she was really lucky, the guy had a warrant or two. She exercised when she was alone. Small stretches to keep from being stiff at first, but that evolved quickly into breaking out the Pilates when her leg allowed it. Which turned into YouTube searches for simple, low impact workouts that she used to balk at. It became an addiction to move, twiddling her finger and toes even when she was trying to settle in for the night. There was a bonus in keeping her body busy; it allowed her to focus on being pissed off at everyone. Anger was easy and clean. She didn't feel helpless then.

Emma glanced at the clock, almost time for her midday feeding. Or lunch as she used to call it. It meant she had to scramble back into her bed and appear like she was still taking it easy. It meant closing the program windows and fast-forwarding a movie on Netflix. It meant being still.

Like clockwork, her front door opened, and Ruby came through with… _not_ the usual tray of diner food. It was a bag from her favorite Thai place four blocks away. From her place on the bed, Emma could see down her small hallway and into the open area she used for her dining table. Emma watched as Ruby began setting it up on the kitchen table, instead of bringing it to her in bed. It felt like she was being tested, or getting Punk'd in the worst way. She remained in her bed, waiting for the punch line. When Ruby was satisfied with her arrangements, she came down the hallway to the bedroom door. Eyes wide and observing, a look Emma was intimately familiar with. It was a look that made Ruby look like a young girl, sweet and innocent. But it was the look that came right before Ruby told you your darkest secret like you were wearing it on your face.

"Do you still need me to bring it to you?"

It was a simple question and Emma considered lying, considered acting like the invalid they treated her as; the exertion after her breakfast _did_ have her leg throbbing slightly. But moving again too tempting to pass off. "No, but I won't turn down leaning on you to get there."

Ruby nodded, seemingly satisfied with Emma's answer, reaching out her arms to help Emma wiggle out of bed. Ruby offered very little help on the short trip back to the kitchen, just her body and weight to help brace and balance against. Emma felt ridiculous; such a simple act of understanding compassion and she wanted to cry with joy. If Ruby noticed Emma's relief, she kept quiet on the matter. She continued her silence as Emma ate, reveling in the break from diner food with the shock of cumin and cloves dancing with peppers and curry on her tongue.

"You're moving better. You still favor your right arm for everything, but your movements are definitely smoother."

Emma froze. _Shit_. "Thank you?"

A scandalous smile eased its way over Ruby's face. "You've been doing things in the apartment haven't you? Graham won't be happy."

"Graham wants to baby me. It was nice the first two days, but it's been nearly a week. I know I still need help with some things, but I think he'd have me in bubble wrap placed inside a crib if he could."

Ruby snorted. "Maybe not that far. You understand it's because he loves you. We all do, and you nearly did the dumbest thing and left us. You scared us."

Emma poked her food with her fork, "I know."

There were a few more moments of silence under that wide gaze of Ruby's, Emma fully aware of what words would come next. _Price of getting better. Now I have to talk about it._

"You remember much about the attack Emma?"

_Right on cue._ "I remember everything."

Ruby's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, "Everything?"

"He convinced me to walk through the park, he attacked me. I ran, he followed. I fell, he tried to rape me. Someone came by and chased the guy off, and I passed out." Ruby wasn't stupid, and would know Emma was omitting the essential details; Emma expected it. But how would one describe a scary dog-boy attacking and a man with shining white eyes stepping in and saving the night while avoiding sounding like a raving lunatic spouting off a modern rescue-the-princess tale?

"Uh-huh... not going to give me more than that?"

Emma scrunched her face, "Nothing else happened Ruby…"

Ruby hung her head and stared at her plate, giving a final nod of decision after another quiet stretch. "You know we set Graham up with an apartment so he could be closer to you, right? In case your nightmares got worse?" Emma nodded slowly when her silence brought Ruby's gaze back up. "But you know he has a company to run, he can't stay here forever. Especially since some family just flew in. I won't make you talk about what happened, but the sooner you're better, the sooner he feels ok to go back home."

"Graham has family in town? He didn't say anything…"

"Probably too worried about you to remember. Or more likely, he didn't want you to feel guilty about giving him a reason to abandon his day-to-day life. Anyway, I think he said something about the guy showing up to look at a place here… I'd have to check with Granny though."

"Oh. Sounds like you'll be busy getting a place set up then." With Graham possibly leaving and Ruby occupied, the near future had Emma virtually vibrating with the possibilities of free time.

"Mmhmm. If you're finished, maybe we could get you cleaned up, walk you around a bit?"

Emma snapped her head back to Ruby, "Seriously?"

Ruby smiled and nodded. "Graham's out till later. Can't stop you if he isn't here." Her face became stern and a finger waggled in Emma's face. "Just a couple of floors though. Nothing outside till you can handle the stairs without crying."

"I don't cry."

"You will if you hit that step just right and gravity pulls you down on your injured leg, jarring your back further."

* * *

It was three floors later and a solid breakdown in tears by Emma when Ruby finally called for a break, leaning Emma against the wall a few apartments down from her own door. Ruby in all sorts of directions, stretching her arms high and out. Emma arched a brow, not having seen her friend stretch before.

All it took was a quick glance for Ruby to notice the confusion on Emma's face. "What? You're heavy."

Emma huffed out a laugh. "If I'm heavy, then you're out of shape."

"Of course _you_ would be the first to complain about my shape." Ruby tilted her head slightly, "If he's hot, do you want me to introduce you?"

Emma blinked, positive she misunderstood, blaming a scuffling on the other side of the wall in the apartment behind her. "Wait… what?"

"Graham's cousin. The one looking at an apartment in a few days? Want me to introduce you to him if he's within our standards?"

"Oh. Um… no? I don't think I'm playing that game for a while. Didn't turn out so well the last time. And I'm not sure, but I don't think dating when I can barely make it to the toilet on time is a good idea."

"True. But you won't be injured forever Emma, and if this guy is an idiot, you can always get Graham to kick his ass."

A thump hit the wall. Ruby laughed, reaching for Emma again. "I guess we're disturbing a tenant. I should get you back."

Emma eyed the wall, raising her voice a little more. "It could be worse. We could be traumatizing someone by making out and groaning in each other's arms. Not everyone appreciates lesbians." Another thump hit the wall, but this one was a sound she knew absolutely. The sound of a head hitting the wall.

_Serves you right for eavesdropping_.

Ruby was held a hand over her mouth, bodily shaking with soundless laughter. Emma shrugged with a grin and began hobbling down the hallway. Speaking over her shoulder, still a touch on the loud side, "You coming Ruby?"

She couldn't help herself, thoroughly enjoying another thump from the wall.

* * *

Killian was dressed for another lead, whistling an old drinking song he barely remembered with his hands pocketed in his slacks. Another night, another set of bars, though the sheer boredom wasn't cutting to him as it had been. Killian was sure tonight's endeavor would be another dead-end, but Ruby's earlier actions had renewed his spirits. It was no less than mutiny, but entirely in his favor. The wall the women had covertly communicated through just happened to be the one by his bed, so he kicked it to convey his acknowledgment of Ruby's ploy; bypassing Graham and going ahead with a plan they had all originally agreed on. It was a small victory, and didn't solve any of his current problems, but he'd take a win when and where it presented itself. Swan may not have known the man of their conversation had been listening in, but she gave hell to the anonymous person whom she believed was. Tossing images of her and Ruby kissing and... Gods, if she was that cheeky just for a quick giggle, he had no idea how he'd contain himself from constantly baiting her.

Graham was going to kill him.

He felt a smile break again. He liked this human.

It was a problem for later.

One bar ended up being three that night. First one was sparse of patrons, giving Killian ample excuse to leave. Second one was a bit higher end; after hours corporate types everywhere. Always an easy set to manipulate or scratch an itch with. He hadn't left his perch once and still accumulated a small scrapbook of phone numbers from both genders. Number three was a dive; late night dregs and low-end folk who were only up to indecent things. Killian was again, bellied up to the bar itself. Enjoying the end of his night and keeping his nose open to anything that smelled like Walsh.

"Excuse me?"

Killian did a half turn. The voice came from a blue-eyed blonde wearing a simple cocktail dress that both revealed and kept it legal. He chuckled; it seemed to be his night for females. "Aye love, something I can help you with?"

She smiled at his loaded question. "Is the seat taken?"

He waved a hand to it, "By all means darling."

"Thanks," she shuffled onto it, "Really don't want to sit alone in this place, and you look the least threatening."

He leaned in a touch closer, letting the predator in him enjoy her timidity. "Isn't that when you should be the most worried love? Some of the nicest men hide the darkest of secrets."

"Perhaps, but I make a living off of... reading... people. However dark your secrets may be, they don't seem to have taken you over yet."

Killian shifted closer to her, discreetly taking a sniff to gauge what could be making his nerves skitter like bugs on a wall. There was a strong layer of fragrances by way of soaps and perfumes, undertones of sex and alcohol, but her blood moved against the adrenaline she had in her veins. Her scent wasn't right; it didn't match her, arguing with her even. "Or maybe, they overtook me long ago and I've merely made peace with it. What is that perfume you are wearing? It's intriguing."

"You know, I'm not sure. It was a gift from a friend; I never could remember the name of it though."

_Lie..._

"Shame that..."

_She is wrong..._

"If you like it so much, we could always go back to my place and I could show it to you." She gave him a coy smile, easing off the stool to prompt their exit.

"Or not. I'm far too dashing to pay for sex sweetheart."

Her smile faltered only a little. "That obvious huh?"

"No, but I make my living reading people too. Just not for the same reasons." He turned back to his drink, taking a decent gulp of whatever amber liquid he ordered.

"Yeah, your friend mentioned something like that."

Killian spit out what was left in his mouth. "I'm sorry, my what?"

"Your friend? He gave me fifty bucks just to come up here and talk to you."

"Did he? And what else did he tell you?" He felt the wolf clawing at every one of his senses. Stretching them out as far as he could without losing his focus on the girl in front of him.

"That you shouldn't be having a party without a proper party hat. Honestly, he was weird. I've been the gift for a guy's birthday before... but this is the first time that all I had to do was talk to you for a little bit and give you your birthday present."

"A present? He gave you something for me?"

She reached into her purse, pulling out an eggshell colored envelope. "Just a card, with a little weight to it. I assumed it was money to pay for the rest of the night."

Killian snatched it from her. "Thank you love. But I won't be needing your company tonight."

He waited till she had moved on before getting a better look at it. It held no smell but the woman's overbearing perfume. He turned it over to pop the seal, sneering at the swan sticker covering the tip of it. Killian felt his heart race, felt the early tingles of a change filter through his skin. There wasn't a card or a note inside, just pictures.

Up close, within three feet easily, a sleeping Emma Swan in her bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: No, the prostitute at the end wasn't Elsa or Tink. Just a prostitute.
> 
> I'll be honest; I wasn't expecting any of those lovely notes for returning. Since many of you have asked me to continue, I feel I should apologize. I guess I didn’t say that this story is more or less finished. Y’all are looking at a fic that will be between 25-30 chapters. 1-24 are written while the rest are sitting as notes and dialog on my phone. A small reminder that this is rated M for violence. I’m horrible at sexy times, so if you’re waiting for smut, you’re only going to be mad at me. Non-Smut Fic.


	6. Locked Doors

**Chapter 5:**

**Locked Doors**

* * *

Killian exited from the bar as quickly and quietly as he could, need and rage licking its way through his body. He turned down the first alleyway he came upon, hoping it was unoccupied, knowing it wouldn't matter if it weren't. There was no stopping the wolf from emerging now. He was being mocked. As prideful as Killian knew himself to be, the wolf was more so. They prey was openly laughing at him with successful evasion of capture. The prey was invading Killian's territory, his _home_. He stripped as fast as he could, pissed that he'd likely never see these clothes again, but the seams can be stubborn in breaking and ultimately cause more pain in their constriction. His shirt was already torn as his hands shifted to claw like appendages, ripping through the fabric as he tried to manipulate the buttons. The pain was coming. Not unlike jumping into the frozen waters of the Arctic. A pain you felt down to the marrow of your bones, mapping every vein and muscle fiber in-between.

His body parts stretched faster than his skin. Bone became denser, curling his back under the extra weight. Tendons pulled and shifted his muscles in new directions. He shouted and fell when his knees cracked to bend the other way, the loud popping sound echoing off the buildings. His organs began their dance to accommodate the new form. While his insides felt frigid with the shift, his skin burned as it grew thicker; forcing the follicles to rapidly produce a protective layer of fur.

But all he saw was Swan asleep in her bed.

* * *

Ruby knew she was asking for trouble the minute he stepped out to by Emma Thai food, but ignoring Emma's stubborn determination to get out of that bed would only end up with the her running away to handle things on her own. Ruby couldn't let that happen, couldn't chance losing Emma again. All Ruby had to do now was convince Graham of it. Something she started off doing by grabbing him as he came through the back entrance, and shoved him into the surgery room without so much a word, locking it from the inside. She didn't turn around right away, willing her strength to remain as she dealt with him. Graham might be as easy going as a puppy on his best days, but he was still an Alpha. And she was about to piss him off.

Graham let out a soft chuckle, not knowing what Ruby was up to. "Let me guess, it's mating season again yeah?"

Ruby turned and gave him an open perusal. "When this is all settled and my season comes again, we'll revisit that option." His mouth gaped and his brows rose, and Ruby almost gave into the temptation of proving exactly serious she was on the offer. "But this is business Graham. You remember that this room is sound proof right?" The speed at which his high brows dropped to pinch together and his open mouth clamping shut in confusion gave Ruby a quick snicker. She loved his stupid face. "Did you want to sit down? Or stand and pace?"

"I'd like to go check on Emma."

Ruby nodded, keeping her eyes to his shoulder. "Emma is fine. Spent the day walking the floors with me even."

She felt his temper rise in the room, like clicks on a stovetop burner. "I thought we had agreed that she needed her rest."

"No one agreed to anything Graham. You laid down the law. Problem is you forgot Emma isn't one to obey anyone's laws if it doesn't suit her. Do you know she's been exercising in her room this whole time? I checked her Netflix history; Pilates, yoga, even some exercises you can manage from a wheel chair. She's going stir crazy in there. And the sad thing? She's been letting us baby her because it made _us_ feel better. So I had her walk with me. At least then she had support and someone there if she got hurt."

"And walking around with her injuries could cause permanent damage. She needs to be in bed!" His temper notched up another couple clicks; he was lucky she understood where he was coming from.

"Are _you_ going to keep her there? Babysit her every hour of the day to make sure she doesn't get up without _your_ permission? You know she thinks you'd wrap her in bubble wrap and stick her in a crib if you could? She used those words Graham."

"I wouldn't place her in a crib…" A touch of shame filled his voice as he finally gave in to pacing the room. Letting his head hang enough to rub the back of his neck.

Ruby sighed. "I'm just as guilty Graham. I don't think I've ever been as scared as I was when Killian brought her home. I wanted to lock her up as much as you do, so long as she was safe. Still do. But Killian was right this morning."

Graham spun on her, head shooting up. "He was–"

" _Right_. Emma needs to be involved. She remembers everything, not just the plot points. Ask her again what happened, and I can guarantee the story will be short and lacking in details. She's keeping them to herself."

"How can you be sure? Traumatic events are blocked constantly."

"Granted, so you should go ask her about that night. Find out for yourself. Stop treating her like a breakable doll, and more like a pack member that's lying to you. And when you realize she's hiding things, move around your schedule to introduce Killian. I already told her that your cousin is looking to move in anyway."

"YOU WHAT?" His eyes burned bright in their citrine hue.

Ruby held her ground. "Told her your cousin is in town. She remembers a wolf attacked her. What we don't know is how much of Killian she saw before she passed out. He thinks it was just his eyes, but she is the only that really knows. If she can't ID him, then she's in the clear, and he can watch out for her easier."

"And how is he doing that when he's gone all night long hmm?" His temper was as high as it could go, dragging hers right along with it.

"You're right. He's gone all night long. Abusing every lead he finds, revisiting old ones, trying to find the guy who started all this shit. And _he_ was the first one to ask about what Emma wanted. He has spent all of twenty minutes with her, and _he_ figured out what she needed first. So yes Graham, while we may change her dressings, help clean her up, get her food… _he's_ the one watching out for her. You know he could just kill her and not have to worry about a damn thing? She dies, and his problems shrink down to just the guy he's tracking. Every moment Emma's alive is a moment The Council could find out _he_ risked exposure?" Ruby's eyes had long since burned their own amber coloring, glowing as bright as Graham's. Her voice rising in volume as she ranted on. She hadn't lost it so much that she her eyes to his, but her feet had closed some of the distance. Close enough to remind herself of how much he smelled like trees.

"And if she does remember him? The Council finds out, and it's her death sentence. If not Killian then someone else. Ignoring it gives us all plausible deniability." Emotion had left his voice, soft and as close to vulnerable as Graham could sound. Ruby wondered how many clients he threw off with it, sounding defeated when it was really his wolf anticipating its attack.

She dropped her tone to match his, retaining what comfort she could for the thickheaded goon. "We can't protect her from anyone if we don't know everything, and she's holding all the missing pieces. All this is right now is digging for information, nothing more. Having her meet Killian is our next step. We've been hanging in limbo over a 'what if' and I think it's pissing us all off."

His eyes were still bright, but only in their tone, the glow of change dimming away. Ruby chanced grabbing his hand in her own. "Give Killian a little more credit. If all he wanted was to do the job, Emma would be dead. He's doing what he can, even relenting to your authority. On the best of days he doesn't do that." Ruby knew she had won when Graham dropped his head and groaned, she kept the happy dance to herself however. She gave the clock on the wall a quick glance, "Emma probably has gone to bed already. Talk to her in the morning?"

"Tell me what makes you so sure she remembers."

"When I helped beaten women? I had to ask them to retell the events over and over. And they would tell me what the birds sounded like outside, or what was playing on the TV. The smell of the person's skin as they were attacked. Textures of fabrics. The small random details are what get stuck in the mind when we remember trauma, things that shouldn't matter. But the points the authorities need to help close a case? Those are the ones that get lost in the mix. Emma recounts the incident like a shopping list, giving me what I would need to file a report, but nothing to suggest she was the victim so much as a bystander. So why it she's never asked what hospital we picked her up from, or for a police report? She _knows_. We just don't know how much."

He nodded. He tugged on their still linked hands, pulling her into a hug. "You tell anyone that you won an argument against me, over a matter I had already settled on, and I'll force you into my pack just to make your life a living hell."

"Like you haven't told me _that_ one before. Just remember that if I'm in your pack, you'd have to deal with me every day too. And I fight dirty."

"Good, we're in an agreement then."

Ruby felt the hug last those extra moments, when comfort shifts into awkward because anticipation for something more wants to be included. She felt his head turn and give a kiss to her temple, making her fight every silly impulse to over think it. Easier to just push out of his arms, away from the smell of trees. "I have to go help Granny close up. Talk to Emma in the morning?"

Confusion crossed his face. "Yeah. Good night Ruby."

* * *

Emma blamed the good food and extra exercise for causing her deep slumber, a doorframe shattering _should_ wake her after all. So should a few picture frames falling to the floor, and another –thankfully unlocked– door banging open. But she slept through, her mind finding rest as her bedroom turned to chaos. Her overprotective friends would share then blame since they were always in her home to help with something; Emma had become a little deaf to people moving about her place. It was the sound of the shower curtain clattering in her tub (of all things) that finally opened Emma's eyes to the dark of the room. She could feel, more than hear, the person moving out to the living room; their footfalls silent on her hardwood floors. As quietly as she could, she reached for her phone. Texting Ruby to call 911 rather than calling it herself, not wanting another near death experience by making a frantic phone call or having the dispatchers speak loudly from the other end. But the shadows of movement returned to her room, obviously alerted by the clicking sound of typing.

_Fuck_.

She lay propped on her uninjured side, angled up by pillows to prevent rolling onto her back, which allowed her a decent fake out of only shifting in her sheets and blankets as she tucked the phone under her covers. She hoped to hide the glow of the screen, praying her "fake sleeping" skills hadn't faded since childhood. The shadows moved to the bathroom again, and Emma chanced opening an eye to catch a look; she commended herself that she didn't scream in that moment.

_Really? Dog-boy and now this?_

Eyes were watching her from that doorway, solid white-eyes on the biggest damn dog she'd ever seen. Emma held as still as she could, watching the dog watch her. She didn't want to look away, the old idea that she could hold it in place by just eyeing it; even though if it decided to jump on her and make her a meal, there wasn't much she could do in her state to stop it. Still, she had to get Graham in here. Rush in to the rescue and have him use that superpower of his to get this dog far, far away. In a move she had too many reasons to perfect; she swiped her thumb across the screen and typed in the code without looking. The dog tilted its head, and she could swear it would have lifted an eyebrow if it had any. Emma had no choice; she had to look down to find Graham's name –adding Ruby's to the list for good measure– and typed out the quick message.

" _Big black dog in my bedroom. Not person. Need help before I'm chow."_

She looked back up, the dog hadn't moved.

_Small blessings Emma._

She locked her phone again and tucked it under her pillow. The movement pulled her shoulder just enough to force a hiss from her lips. The dog began growling in response.

"Seriously? I'm the one in pain, and you get to bitch?" A zing of pain shot down her back when she retracted the arm back to a more comfortable position, causing her to grunt against the small spasm taking her.

The dog started for her slowly, snarling and making a quiet woofing sound. Emma tried to hold as still as she could, catching on that this dog didn't approve of her moving around. But that wasn't working either. The anxiety and tension worked its way through her body, getting Emma to feel all her aches and pains. She squeezed her eyes, biting back the swearing bubbling up in her throat.

_Any time now Graham…_

The bed dipped as the dog let himself up. It moved slowly, almost like it wasn't sure of its footing, but it made its way over her legs. Those white eyes looking her over, looking for god knows what.

_For the best spot to start munching_.

It moved farther up her body, sniffing at her sides. The cold nose on her ribs, shifting like it was… well, the stifled giggle couldn't be helped. She saw the dog's head tilt again and perked its ears to her sound. When she quieted down, it went back to the same spot.

She openly laughed now. "No fair tickling."

The dog blew air out its nose, in what Emma took as blowing off her protests. It sniffed its way up to her neck, but Emma knew better than to expose her neck to a wild dog. She retracted, trying to sink further into the mattress. The dog didn't approve, and snapped its teeth at her, growling again. Showing fear to a wild animal wasn't on the list of things to do either, but she couldn't stop that part of her if she tried. She felt the cold nose on her cheek; the flinch was as involuntary as the fear. The growling stopped, but the nose pushed her cheek again. Nudging her head to the side. Repeating the move until it managed to wriggle its nose to just under her jaw line, where the sniffing began again.

Its massive head pulled back, white eyes fixed on hers, but tension gone from its frame. Making some sort of chuffing sound, it moved off of her, settling in front of her instead. When she still didn't move, the dog pushed its muzzle into her hand, giving it a slight lick. Eyes still watching, always watching her. Once again Emma blamed her friends for her reaction, exposing her to so many animals had her hand stroking the strange dog's head as an automatic response to its encouragement. A smile tugged at her mouth, the placebo effect of a friendly dog taking hold rather quickly.

"Aren't you a sweet girl?" The dog huffed and sneezed at Emma in response, amusingly offended in it actions. "Oh. So a boy then?"

It made a few more grumbles, but seemed to quiet back down. She let her hand fall after a moment, not sure how much the dog would allow, and with her still immobile on the bed. The dog pawed at her, nuzzling her hand again, wanting more.

"Oh so now you're a good dog huh?" His tongue lolled out of a wide smiling mouth.

_Oh he knows what he did the bastard._

A sound in the hallway brought back the growling monstrosity, on its feet and facing her door. Emma was touched. The growling stopped and the ears perked again as a whistle echoed from somewhere outside her door.

"Time to go then?" The dog turned back to her, giving her head a quick bump with its own. "Next time don't break down my door for a visit. Learn how to knock." Another whistle sounded, and the dog trotted out her broken front door.

I was another five minutes before her reinforcements arrived, not looking nearly as panicked as Emma thought they would be. "I should have ordered pizza; they would have gotten here sooner."

Graham wandered around her place, Ruby at her side looking for new injuries. "I'm sorry Emma, I was closing up downstairs, didn't hear my phone over the radio."

"And you Graham?" He made his way into her bathroom, giving a low whistle to the damage.

"I was in the shower. Where's the dog?"

"Gone. Someone was whistling for it in the hallway, and it took off." She looked at Ruby, "I thought you guys had a 'No Pets' policy?"

"We do, which means I have to draw up paperwork issuing a fine and possibly an eviction notice _after_ I figure out who has a mutt. Yay me. Did the dog hurt you?"

"No, he mostly just kept staring at me. And sniffing me. Had the nerve to jump on my bed and crawl on me."

Graham burst from the bathroom, "He _what_?"

"I had to move my arm to get to the phone and then again to get it out of the way, which hurt. The dog apparently didn't like the sounds I made, growled a bit, and got on the bed. It stood over me, sniffed my ribs –which tickled. It wanted to sniff at my neck–"

"You didn't let him did you?"

Ruby shushed him, "Calm down Graham, she's fine."

"I tried to back away, he growled again, and put his nose right here." Emma pointed to her pulse point, watching as Graham turned an interesting shade of red. "Don't know what he was looking for, but a second later, he plopped right next to me on the bed. Pushed around my hand till I scratched his ears." Ruby snorted out a laugh. "There was a sound in the hallway, the dog jumped up, and growled in the general direction of it. Must have been the owner because right after there was some whistling and the dog got quiet again. Gave me another nuzzle before it trotted out of here like nothing happened."

"You have all the adventures don't you?" Ruby grinned.

"Yeah Ruby… fun time all the time. I'm sleeping in your bed till the landlord fixes my front door by the way."

"Wouldn't it be a shame if that took forever too? You should know, I'm a snuggler. And I'm always the big spoon." The grin that spread on Ruby's face was predatory. But it was meant for the male in the room, even if it was directed at Emma.

Emma wasn't one to walk away from making Graham uncomfortable. "That's fine, but I shift around a lot in my sleep, so don't freak out if I'm grabbing your ass or a boob when you wake up."

"You two suck." Graham made his way to her broken front door. "I'll be taking a _cold_ shower now. Don't call in the brigade if I don't answer to whatever trouble you guys get into."

When he had gone, Ruby tugged on Emma's hair. "You sure you're ok?"

"Yeah. Almost peed myself at first. Freaky looking dog. Black fur, massive head… had to have some large breeds in its line. On the muscly side but plenty of fur to cover most of it… I pity the dog during the summer. But its eyes were white... the irises, not pink white or that yellowish white that the rest of their eyes look like, it was like a paled out blue. I've never seen a dog with eyes like that."

"Maybe it was blind?"

"No I don't think so. Kept watching me, like it was waiting for me to perform a trick or something. I'm just glad it didn't want me for dinner."

"Some Husky breeds have eyes like that." Ruby shrugged it away. "In any case, it's going to take us forever to walk you to my place. Might as well do it now. I'll make a second trip for some of your clothes."

"And my laptop."

Ruby nodded, "And your laptop. But you are going back to sleep even if it means I have to drug you."

"Yes mom."

* * *

Killian's skin still burned, but his mind was quiet again. His stomach, however, was echoing his earlier growling. He was able to Change fractionally faster than the average wolf, but it still ate up as much energy as any of them; he'd have to make another trip to the grocer's when they opened. He'd suffer the sensory assault; Swan was safe. He was trying to work out how Walsh had taken the photo when he hadn't been in the room, the scent nowhere to be found. A development without precedent in Walsh's habits. Never had Walsh reached out to taunt anyone of his acquired women. It niggled in Killian's brain, wanting to be sorted to its proper place, labeled and defined.

When Killian put his mind to thinking on it anyway.

Focusing to his assignment wasn't as easy as it should have been. As much as his pride and ego would love to blame his hunger for his inability to keep his mind to task, images of Swan lying in bed kept filtering in, his ears still ringing with her laughter from when he nosed at her side. The sound had suited her. He had struggled with his wolf at first, trying to remind it that she wasn't something to be dominated, but protected. However, even old creatures like himself can misread the animal within, catching on slowly that his wolf held no ill intentions to the woman, just the danger and pain she was in. Eventually the wolf conceded that Swan wasn't in either –at least not as much as before, and it allowed him a chance to interact with her for the first time in a week; Killian went as far as to encourage her in a scratch to his head. He still felt her fingers in his hair. He would have stayed all night (he did destroy her door after all), but Humbert and Ruby had shown up, giving him a plausible exit. (The look on Humbert's face as he passed the Alpha was worth all the damage he caused in Swan's apartment.)

He rose, walked to his front door, and swung it wide just as Graham moved to knock on it. He got the same look, so he smiled as big as he could. "Humbert! What brings the Alpha to my humble abode?"

Graham brushed by him, "Shut up. You mind telling me why you broke in Emma's place and pretended to be a stray?"

"But you just told me to shut up…" Graham yelled in frustration, the stress of the night edging the man's control to a point Killian wasn't willing to breach. "Alright, alright. But I'll only tell you once you've got more control." Killian held up his hands defensively when Graham's eyes flashed. "Honestly mate, I lost control earlier tonight, not a good idea if the local Alpha does the same. Maybe a drink? Beer? Rum?"

"How you are Irish and _not_ in possession of Whiskey is long past me."

Killian laughed. "Years of rum barrels can do that to you."

Graham blew out a breath. "Beer, thank you."

"Should we wait for Ruby? So she's aware of everything too? I assume you left her with Swan…"

"Since you obliterated her front door, Emma will be staying with Ruby. They began to taunt me, talking about sleeping in the same bed… spooning…"

Killian thumped his head against the refrigerator.

"Exactly. I'm taking your change as a development though? You heard something?"

Killian walked back, handing over the bottle. "Aye. Not the best of news. But a silver lining appeared once I calmed down enough to see it. I swear to tell all as soon as our dark-haired temptress shows."

"It might take her time, walking Emma to her apartment, and probably a bit of girl talk."

"A distraction till then? Do you still play chess?"

"Of course."

* * *

Ruby showed up just as Killian took Graham's queen. "And here I thought I'd be walking in on a good old-fashioned Irish brawl."

Killian leered, "Anything to see me half-naked. But why stop there?" Graham kicked him under the table.

Ruby loved her men. "Alright. Emma is tucked away safely. Care to bring me up to speed? Why were you in wolf-skin?"

Killian sighed. "Spoilsport. I need you both to keep a level head. Yes?" He waited till both had consented. "I received a photo at my final stop last night. Walsh had gone as far as purchasing a prostitute to give it to me. It was of Emma sleeping in her bed, not the same clothes as tonight thankfully. But that wolf knows exactly where she is and has figured out I'm searching for him. I lost my head, ran to the nearest dark corner, and shifted. Lost a damn good shirt out of it too. Barely held onto control of my wolf as I made my way here to ascertain Swan's condition. I barged through her door, searching the place for a scent of him. Swan stayed asleep for most of it; still not sure what exactly woke her up…"

"The shower curtain falling." Ruby chimed in.

"Really? Huh… well, she was moving slightly, likely texting you two. The movements must have pained her, because she made these awful sounds. I didn't like it; my wolf didn't like it. Probably less so thinking that Walsh had been in her room. I climbed onto her bed to check her over closer. Once I was satisfied that she wasn't injured or suffering too much, I played up the 'stray dog' routine. I didn't want her having another screwed up night."

Graham grunted. "You went for her throat."

"I… yes. I did. Scenting her again. A scent can alter with certain drugs. The prostitute Walsh had sent my way reeked of some; I was concerned Emma could be affected as well."

Ruby was grinning widely. Graham wasn't buying it entirely. "Why didn't you just leave when you knew she was ok?"

Killian eyed him like he had grown a new head right out of the old one. "And leave her alone with a gaping door? After I nearly scared her to death? After that photo? I wasn't going to leave her unguarded, and I just said I didn't want to traumatize her further Humbert. Is that so hard to believe?"

Graham remained steady. "Your life would be simpler without her as a complication. Can't help but wonder if maybe you, or your wolf, were considering adjusting that."

The tips of Killian's ears flared red, his eyes paled, his jaw ticked away like a clock. "I'll say this once. If I, or my wolf, wanted Emma dead, she would be already."

The corner of Graham's mouth twitched. "Fine then. You said there was a silver lining in all this?"

"You didn't figure it out yet? No wonder I won that game so easily…"

"C'mon Killian. Stop teasing him. His night wasn't easy either." Ruby patted Graham's knee. The movement not escaping Killian's notice.

"Right. He's taking photos of her and making sure I get them. Either he wants her, or he wants to bait me. Possibly both. Either way, it means he's still in town. And we have something he wants. It's only a matter of time till he comes to us." He looked at Graham, "Means I have to meet Emma officially though. In the morning. No more stalling."

Graham looked Killian over one more time, sliding a glance to Ruby. "I need to have another chat with Emma in the morning." Killian opened his mouth to protest, but Graham continued on. "Just to be sure, I have more than you guys to consider if this comes with backlash. An early dinner? Perhaps forego your nightly romps about town?"

Killian smirked. "It's a date then."


	7. What's Yours, Is Mine

**Chapter 6:**

**What's Yours, Is Mine**

* * *

Everyone dreams. The brain shifts through the day's events and stresses, replaying them as it divides each into designated compartments based on how a person individually feels about them. The brain has been known to harbor up to seven thoughts in a singular moment, which would explain why dreams are simply a jumbled mess of random people doing things physically impossible and out of sequence. The majority of the public don't remember their dreams. Emma was among those people. Until Walsh had tried to kill her. Despite scientific reasoning, the general public still believed that dreams held meaning. Insight into the subconscious, foretelling of upcoming events, retelling of days long gone, even past lives. There were all kinds of interpretations, but Emma never put much stock into those ideas. Her mind was changing now.

Since the night in the park, Emma had become plagued with dreams. At first, they were simply twisted versions of what had happened. Sometimes she would fight back instead of running. Once, she was the one coming to the rescue of someone else. A few were more dark and brutal than she'd care to acknowledge, even to herself. Emma ignored them mostly; it was just her mind dealing with the trauma. In the last few days, they were different. It wasn't night anymore in that part of the park, though it alternated between cloudy skies and sunlight. Walsh never anywhere to be seen. Then there would be dogs of all kinds, all over the place. As if every pound and shelter had let them all go at once. They would be running and chasing each other, barking at falling leaves… none of them paid her any mind, and that was ok. Emma was happy to watch them be free. Two nights ago, Emma dreamt of the park bathed in bright sunlight. She was lying back on pillows, watching the sunlight glitter through the leaves. Then the pillows would move on their own, as the city's supply of canines filtered in. She had turned her head and noticed her pillows were covered in fur, warm, and breathing. One pillow was chestnut brown; the other was a brindle. In her dream, it felt normal for the pillows to be covered in fur and alive underneath. But that's because it was a dream.

Last night's dream showed her the park with an overcast sky, and she had her furry pillow friends again. She dreamt of the black dog that had barged into her apartment (just her brain sorting out the day, of course). It came sauntering up to her as she lay on the ground. It sniffed her side, hitting the same tickle spot as it had in her bed. When her laughter faded, it flopped down stretching out next to her. Rolled over on its side, almost rolling backwards over her body, pushing into her. A huff of breath pressed out its lungs when it finally felt comfortable enough. Emma laughed, reaching up to scratch his head, surprisingly content to let such a large dog be a cuddler. It was a singular good moment, something Emma didn't have enough of. Thunder cracked through the air, and her newest friend was standing over her instead, barking at the sky.

Thunder cracked again, and Emma opened her eyes. Pulling the muscles in her back in a bad way, as she jumped in Ruby's bed. Graham was sitting and watching her from the chair Ruby kept by her window. "At some point, I would love to wake up, and not have a reason to scream."

His face contracted into regret, rising to help her into a better position. "I'm sorry Emma. Really. It was… you were smiling in your sleep. I didn't have the heart to wake you from whatever was causing it. You haven't smiled in a while."

"I'll accept the apology if there is bacon and coffee involved." She grumbled out, rubbing the fleshy part of her palm over one eye.

Graham gestured to the nightstand where a to-go cup all the way from Starbucks (still steaming) and a bear claw rested. "Can I owe you the bacon?"

Emma smiled, "Only because you got me something better than Granny's mud from downstairs." Her eyes flew open; she pointed a finger to his nose. "DON'T tell her I said that."

His laugh was warm as he patted her leg. "Not even if she threatens to skin me."

He was watching her again as she ate a couple bites. She shifted a little, swallowing the current bite a bit soon. "Graham, why do I feel like you're about to kiss me?"

He stilled, tilting his head down a fraction, looking at her from under his brow. "Would you let me if I did?"

_Starbucks and Graham making a move, I thought I woke up._

He scooted closer when she stared at him too long, a hand reaching out to cup her cheek. "Would you Emma?"

_Wake up, wake up, wake up…_

He leaned in, touching his forehead to hers. But his lips never came near hers. He only sighed through them. "Let me guess, I worked my way right into the 'Brother' section of your heart?"

"I'm sorry Graham, I just don't–"

His hand tightened its grip on her face, giving her a small shake. "Never finish that sentence. Never be sorry for having your own feelings. I'm a lucky man just getting to call you friend."

"You are though. Like a brother to me? Pretty much everything I ever wanted in a brother when I was going between each foster home." Her voice shook and her heart was stuttering, afraid of this fallout. He must have heard it because he moved her coffee back to the stand and pulled her into a hug, shushing her and petting her hair.

"Easy Emma. I'm not going anywhere just because you aren't interested. If that was all I was after, do you think I'd have waited this long to make a move? I'm not _that_ dastardly…"

Her face buried in his chest. The idea of losing someone so very important to her made her chest hurt. "I think I'd like a day where I don't have a reason to freak out too."

He laughed with her. Moving her away to look on her face, stroking the hair away. "Sorry. I wanted to give you a better morning. I've gone and messed it all up it seems."

"You did come bearing gifts didn't you?" Her head tilted to the side. "What did you do?"

"Me? I have been nothing but well behaved."

"Uh-huh…" Her brow arched. "So what did _I_ do?"

Graham watched her face again, "One of these days Emma, you won't enjoy pressing people for the truth so much."

"Crap, you found out about Ruby helping me exercise didn't you?"

"Well, yes… but our," Gesturing between himself and Emma, "talk might take a bit. Would you like to use the loo first? I assume you don't need help the whole time."

Both her brows climbed high on her forehead this time. "A pee break first? What did I do? I haven't killed anyone in my sleep have I?"

He laughed again. "Nothing like that, but we need a talk. Just the two of us."

* * *

Graham had let her take care of her morning routine, eventually getting a proper breakfast sent up from the diner. Emma felt starving for the first time since that night, where you begin to feel like you might throw up if you don't eat levels of starving; she inhaled everything that had been brought up. When she mentioned her back itched something horrible, he looked it over for possible infections, rubbing his fingers where he could to help soothe away any lingering tingles. He told her the bruising was finally fading into that pea green color, that it looked disgusting, but it meant she was healing.

They were stalling.

So on Ruby's bed; sitting hip to hip, she kicked his shin. "Alright, we've officially run out of small talk. Wanna tell me what's up now?"

"Yeah…" He grabbed her hand in both of his, playing with her fingers. "You know I love you right? More than just possible romantic intentions. Ruby does too, and Granny. We are your family. You know that don't you?"

"Yeah… why?"

"And as your family, we're here no matter what happens? There isn't anything that could drive us away? We're here to help you."

"Is this your way of explaining why you've been treating me like I might implode any second?"

His brows furrowed. "Partially, I guess. You know for dogs, the pack is the family, right? And if even one member of that pack isn't functioning like it should, it throws the whole pack off its balance. Granny, Ruby, myself… we can't function properly as your family, when you aren't."

She shook her head at him. "Anytime you wanna start making sense Graham…"

He huffed. "It's not like I practiced this or anything…"

"A note for next time then."

"Ha ha. I'm rubbish at the subtle talk; would you pardon me for being blunt?" Emma smiled, knowing he had to be frustrated if the old world manners were coming out. She waved her hand for him to continue. "Alright. It's about that night you were attacked. You've been hiding things. And not just the extra exercise or the programs. You are running programs and tracking the guy down. Don't try to deny it, that thing has dinged three times in the last thirty minutes."

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. "Fine, yeah, I've been trying to find him. Do you blame me? I hunt down assholes for a living and that one hurt me directly."

"No, no I get it. But it's not the only thing you've been hiding Emma. You haven't told us everything about that night."

She adjusted her shoulders, putting some air between them. "Yes I have. Why would I lie?"

"Because it's weird and you don't want us thinking you've gone crazy."

"Of course it was weird, he slashed open my back and then started feeling me up!"

Graham nodded. "Ok, how did he cut you?"

"I… I don't know. A knife I guess."

He pointed at her. "Lie."

"I'm sorry what?" She shifted again and a full twelve inches were between them now. Her face unbelieving, though whether it was at his audacity or his calling bullshit so plainly she wasn't sure.

"You aren't the only one good at telling when someone lies. And you just lied to me."

"I didn't–"

"And this is what I meant. You aren't ok, and the rest of us know it. I don't care what it is, but I want you to tell me everything. I can't help you the best way I'm able, if you're lying to me Emma. And this won't drive us away. Any of us. But right now, all it is, is you and me. Please." She set her jaw. He had read her, so she read him. And damn the man for not having one ounce of falsehood to himself or his words. "I know you're looking for a trick somewhere Emma, you won't find one. I know something is up. I know you're keeping things to yourself. And _you_ know I'm just trying to help."

"You swear that this stays here?"

"No. I get to tell Ruby if you don't."

"Graham–"

"I mean it Emma. You want to deal with her when she finds out she was left out of the loop?"

Emma's jaw set hard again. "Fine.

Emma retold the story. Every moment. How the guy had smiled in the bar, what he had to drink. She remembered the feel of the claw etching into her back, reaching to her shoulder as she talked. Every foul word the bastard had said to her. Every smug feeling as she had as both her and the guy who came to her rescue, mouthed off at him. She remembered how the dry leaves sounded under her as they crunched and crumbled. The sounds Walsh had made, the very air adjusting when her rescuer got pushy.

She stopped when she recalled Walsh running away.

"Go on Emma. What then?"

"That's where it gets fuzzy. I know I was dizzy by then. I thanked him, but he said not to. He lifted me like I weighed nothing Graham. Held me out like a guy being forced to hold a baby for the first time. But it took the pressure off my chest and I could breathe. I want to say he was holding me up, like feet dangling off the ground up, but how could he be that strong with just his arms? He wasn't a bulky guy. I know I looked at him, I saw his eyes, and they weren't normal either. Not like Walsh, but definitely not human. And then nothing, I remember nothing from that point. Not till I woke up with Ruby yelling at me and you holding me down."

"You don't remember what he looked like?"

"I've been trying. It's like it's just out of my vision. Every time I turn my head to see, it moves away again. I dunno, maybe if I saw him again. But then, anyone walking around with eyes like that would be easy to call out. They could have been contacts, it _is_ New York. And if not, he could be wearing contacts now to hide…" She dropped her head into her hands. "That's the only part I'm actually not sure on. The guy who saved me."

"You heard his voice though, would you recognize it again?"

"I think? English, but he had back notes of Irish. Some of his vowels would slip and he would sound like you. Kinda hot honestly." Graham scoffed. "What? It was! I wasn't dead yet."

"Right Emma. Openly bleeding on the ground, but 'gee he sounds pretty'. If I had known that you liked the accent so much, I would have rang you up on the phone more often." He waggled his eyebrows and shared her laughter.

She'd never admit it to him, that he had been right about talking. She was glad someone else knew. "So? Verdict? Do you think I'm nuts?"

"No. I think you're stupid for walking alone with a guy, at night, in Central Park. I think you're brave for running. I think you're ballsy for refusing to let him break you. I think you're a hero for trying to get the other guy out of there even when you were the one that needed help. But no, not crazy."

Emma couldn't stop the tear, she only allowed the one. For now. "Do you think what I saw was real?"

She saw Graham's face become a little more guarded. "I think that _that_ is a conversation for another time, you've already missed lunch. Take this in steps Emma, not leaps. Besides, I have to go pick someone up in a bit."

"Your cousin?" She smiled when his eyebrow twitched. "Ruby mentioned you had family in town and he might be looking for a place of his own."

"No secrets, I swear… yes. I promised him a proper dinner in New York tonight."

Emma perked up a bit. "Really? Where are you taking him?"

"Just a restaurant…"

Her voice turned petulant. "You're taking him to Alessandro's aren't you?"

Graham ducked his head, hiding his smile. "Possibly."

"Take me with you! I promise I won't ask him for embarrassing stories… much."

"You shouldn't overdo yourself Emma. I'll bring you back something though."

"But it'll be cold!" Using whining as a tactic for manipulation was one she reserved for her skips, because it simply wasn't in her to act so childish so often… but this was _Alessandro's_.

"A deal? If you can talk Ruby into coming along in her own car, you can come. That way if you start hurting or if you get tired, you aren't stuck with a couple of blokes from the Emerald Isle." Emma whooped and flung herself into Graham's arms. Blowing a raspberry on his scruffy cheek rather than giving him a kiss. "Alright, alright. Down! I'll find Ruby and send her up." He smacked a kiss to the top of her head.

"Graham?"

"Yeah?"

"Love you too."

* * *

"What time did they say they would arrive?" Killian was twirling his fork… again. Anxious to meet Swan, without blood involved, or covered in fur. Wondering if he could get her to laugh again.

"This isn't an actual date Jones. This is seeing if she can ID you or your voice. She doesn't know you're wolf, but she knows the guy who saved her isn't human." Graham glanced at Killian with critical eyes. "Not like I would consent to _you_ pursuing her anyway."

"She isn't pack Humbert, not even wolf. Those rules, thankfully, don't apply."

"On the contrary, she declared me family only earlier today. Brother in fact. Placing her squarely in my pack, and in the oldest male position. You can petition the pack Alpha, but I'm pretty sure you won't get far there either."

"Sit on your throne all you like, I'm not interested remotely in that fashion." Killian swallowed his drink. _Not remotely._ "However, if she decides otherwise, let me know. I want front row seats to that match between you two."

Graham made a noncommittal sound, sipping at his water. Killian started twirling his fork for the umpteenth time, nervous energy coursing through him faster than alcohol in a lad. Both men's heads popped up when the girls walked in, like marionette's after someone paid the coin to see them dance. Both stood and moved to the empty chairs, holding them out as another age dictated their manners. Killian's hand reached out to help Swan into the chair in front of him without so much a thought in his head.

"Wow. Is the gentleman deal a family trait, or an Irish one?" She turned a smile on him as he returned to his seat, and the world came down to a singular bright point.

It took a kick under the table to make Killian aware that the question was directed at him. He had been staring. "Uh… not sure love. I've met my share of wankers back home, and there isn't a great deal of familial blood between Humbert and I."

She shrugged one shoulder, smile never slipping from her face. "Maybe it's a genetic thing that skips certain generations."

_Were her eyes always that shade of green?_ Another kick came. "Aye, perhaps."

Graham waved over the waitress to take their drink orders. Killian had no idea what git had taken control of his body, so he buried his nose in the menu, trying to get a handle on himself. The waitress had left and come again without his notice, and the poor lass had to resort to touching his shoulder to get his order.

Graham leaned over as the women chatted on to each other. "Are you alright?"

"Aye, I'm fine."

Graham let loose a chuckle. "Sure you are. I'm still withholding consent." Killian shot him a dark look. Graham laughed a little harder.

"Something funny?"

Killian's eyes went back to Swan, attempting to recover a shred of his usual charm. "Aye. Humbert was bringing up a memory at my expense."

Her eyes glittered. "Oh? Care to share?"

Graham and Ruby propped their chins on their hands, eager to see what Killian would come up with. All Killian saw was Emma's openly curious face. "I'm afraid it isn't as funny if you weren't there. Humbert talked me into attending a party with him. The women were, sadly, out drinking us. Talked us both into wearing these little hats on our heads. Top hats, I believe."

A shadow passed over her eyes, but they remained fixed on him. "Interesting. Maybe Ruby and I could get you two to repeat the performance."

Graham's face became stern, directed entirely on Swan. "You aren't having more than that one glass of wine tonight. I've already made sure the waitress knows."

Emma's lip turned down into a pout, "You're no fun."

"I'm sorry; I believe I'm missing something… why is she restricted?" Killian was sure he was possessed; her pout making him fidget in his seat to remove it.

She waved her hand in Graham's general direction. "Big brother over there is worried for my health is all."

Graham all but beamed at her choice of words. "I told you Jones, she was injured. Last thing she needs is alcohol thinning her blood or interfering with the pain medication."

Emma leaned over the table in Killian's direction, providing him with an ample view of something he refused to look at. Her whisper was loud, and full of mock conspiracy. "Truth is? I'd kill for two fingers of Whiskey."

He matched her posture and tone, "I never could handle the bloody stuff myself. I'd much prefer some rum."

Her eyebrow arched, "Want to ditch the squares and go find ourselves the bar?"

"I don't think Humbert here would approve. And since right now, I'm at the mercy of his generosity; I have to defer to him." Her pout returned, and he nearly jumped from his chair to retrieve her drink of choice. "I'll make a deal love. If Ruby here tells me your health has improved, I will deliver a fine bottle personally."

"My hero."

He winked at her, feeling more like his dashing self. Hoping he salvaged _some_ of the night. Not that he was trying for anything; he just liked seeing her smile.

Their food arrived, and the chatter flowed easily between them all. Killian managed to distract Graham every now and then to refill Emma's wine glass with a few extra sips. A wink from him, a grin from her. It was relaxing being there, Killian counted five times when he came close to forgetting why they had gathered at all. However, it only took Emma yawning once for Graham to call the evening to a close. Not that Killian was particularly ready to leave the good company, but he could see Swan needed to retire soon. He was up and at her side helping her before his brain caught up.

"You really play up that gentleman act don't you?"

"Not an act darling." His hand slipped in hers, while the other one supported her elbow. Her grip was strong as she pulled herself up, shaking only slightly. "I'm always a gentleman."

"Are you coming back to the apartments?" His eyebrows flew up to his hairline. "Not like that! Ruby mentioned you wanted to check them out anyway. Since the rest of us already live there, why not just come along? Crash on Graham's temporary couch. No point in having him drive all the way out to his house, just to drive all the way back."

Graham tried to break in, protesting that it wasn't any trouble. But Killian saw that pout forming and agreed to her plan. Graham hit him for it in the car later.

* * *

Ruby showed Killian around supremely, even giving historical tidbits like she would a tourist. As they climbed the stairs to view an empty apartment, Graham intervened again. Declaring that all the extra activity was going to overly strain Emma's wounds, and should end her night. Killian was only moderately disappointed that her pout didn't return.

"Yeah ok, I won't fight that anymore, but that means Ruby has to come with me." She glanced at Killian, "See, this giant lumbering dog actually broke through my door and ransacked my place. So I get to stay with her till the repairs are finished."

"Really? Sounds like an after party to me. Is it girls only?"

" _It's_ not going to happen." Graham all but growled out.

"Can't blame a man for trying Humbert."

"Actually, it won't unless I can get back to my place and grab a few things." Emma grabbed Ruby's arm. "Home Jeeves."

"Not to intrude, but would you mind if I tagged along? I'm curious to see how much damage one dog can do to ban you from your own abode."

Graham growled again, but Emma interrupted. "Sure, why not? But that means you get the job of helping me walk. I've been abusing Ruby's arm all day, and this way your 'gentleman' abilities get some work."

Though Killian was sure Graham was nearly ready to start marking territory, Killian offered his elbow again. "As you wish."

* * *

He understood Graham's feelings when they approached her door. It looked much worse now that he wasn't in a rage. It was obvious the workman had been there; new framework and a new door were in place. But there was a smell. One he knew, one that shouldn't be there. He let her pull him into the room, and for it to hit his senses harder. Emma tried to lead him into the bedroom, going on about a charging cord for her computer. Killian remained still, looking at the door like it was alive and talking.

"Let Ruby fetch it for you love. Probably fallen to the floor as it is." He looked over to Ruby, shaking his head marginally. She scratched the side of her head, pointing to her eyes, then him.

_Damn._

But Emma didn't mind him, marching forward on her own. He reached her side as she swung the bedroom door wide. Killian's nose was assaulted with the stench. A burning mix of an aviary, and a zoo.

"What the hell?" Emma moved to her bed.

The comforter was shredded, the pillow stuffing everywhere. She moved to get closer, but Killian already had his hands around her arms. Flushing her back to his chest, so his eyes couldn't give him away.

"No love, leave it. Seems the dog returned at some point and continued his mess. Go on with Ruby, I'll fetch Humbert and set this to rights."

"It's fine." She pulled again, but he held firm, causing her tone to match his grip. "Let me go."

He moved her to Ruby. "Text Humbert what you need, it'll be delivered shortly."

"Excuse me? You don't get to boss me around in my own home buddy. How about you leave–"

Killian's wolf got the better of him then, rounding on both the women. "Leave. Now."

"Your eyes... you... no..."

He looked at Ruby and jerked his head to the door. She complied as best as she could with an injured Emma frantically shouting for Graham. Killian had seen the middle of the bed just before Swan had moved to it. He shit to wolf-skin right there in front of her before he'd let her suffer _that_ discovery. Graham stormed in, shouting his own obscenities. On and on about screwing up the whole night, the whole plan to get The Council off their backs. Threatening bodily harm for scaring Emma like that. But Killian stood still, letting the Alpha blow out the steam. And when Graham asked him why he said nothing for himself, Killian merely pointed to the middle of the bed.

A tin food bowl and a pink collar –complete with name tag– sat. Both engraved with Emma's name.

* * *

Emma dreamt again that night. In the park, curled up against her furry pillow friends. With the black dog barking at a monkey in the trees. The monkey threw banana peels at her (which was rude considering she had done nothing to bother the monkey).

Then she was dreaming of the black dog lying over her legs, looking at her with sad blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it seems like Emma is suddenly too bubbly: She doesn't feel alone now that she's opened up to Graham, Alessandro's is her favorite restaurant, and it's her first time outside the building in about a week. 
> 
> acasto03: No sweetlove, you didn't upset me. But the only other comment I have from you is the one on the note to readers. Maybe there was another that didn't come through?
> 
> Everyone: I honestly don't know what to do with your praise, cause it only feels like I'm lying to you. My abilities are high school basic, and my delivery is slow... I can't help but want to warn you all off from this thing cause it doesn't get better folks. Yes, I know most of you will argue, if not try to convince me otherwise. Just keep in mind that I tried to warn you when this gets boring?


	8. It's Not Easy Being Submissive

**Chapter 7:**

**It's Not Easy Being Submissive**

* * *

The majority of werewolves are dominant. And like a length of chain hung from a ceiling, there are wolves more dominant than others. Either by several degrees, or just barely. It is both a hazard and a blessing. The trick is knowing which link of chain you are dealing with. In the case of Graham and Killian, their dominance was a blessing… individually. It helped Graham control his pack and run his business. It helped Killian subdue and bring in the stray wolves as dictated by The Council. Together though, it was a hazard. Their individual levels of dominance were close enough to nearly be the same link of chain, which meant neither could really influence the other. It was the root of their general distrust and animosity. (The rest flowed from other, more human, complications.) Being Alpha, and having both the strength of pack and home territory, it was Graham that had a slight edge at this particular time. When Graham lost control of his wolf and began his change, Killian made himself scarce. His presence would only aggravate the situation. As outdated as it is, wolves are primal creatures. And Graham's territory had been clearly violated. Killian being a visiting lone wolf -which an Alpha couldn't control- staying in the middle of things, was a begging for a bloodbath. It bothered Killian to leave Ruby and Granny to deal with an irate wolf all on their own, but he wasn't left with an alternative. He'd like to leave the building entirely till morning, but he couldn't convince all of himself to walk out Granny's doors; Swan's room being so violently invaded bothered him more than a pissed off Alpha. As it was, he awaited a text from Ruby to give him an "all clear", and descend from the roof of Granny's building. His own wolf was pushed to the point of pacing, as a myriad of thoughts flew through his brain.

It must have been his millionth lap when Ruby came through the roof access door. She said nothing as she walked up to Killian, placing her head on his chest. She was shivering, and not from the chilled wind. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, never able to stop himself from providing Ruby of comfort when she needed it.

"Emma wouldn't stop screaming, yelling... then Graham showed up, and she got very quiet. She sat so still in that chair…" Ruby's words were muffled coming from his chest, low and quiet as if she didn't want to say them to begin with. His hand made small strokes on her shoulder, a small amount of comfort compared to what she probably needed.

"She doesn't seem like the idle type."

"No. She fights. You got to see it firsthand. But after Graham left to find you, she just sat in that chair I keep by the window and stared. She wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't move. I almost thought she went catatonic, if she hadn't started crying."

Killian stilled for a moment. "She was crying? I frightened her that much?" _Swan hadn't shed a tear even with Walsh shoving her through Death's door._

"No. You scared her yes, but it wasn't you. Or, at least, not entirely you. When she told Graham of your eyes, he lost it. I think she saw his. She wasn't making noise Killian. It was just tears coming down her face."

He tightened his hold a fraction, firmly telling himself it was for Ruby's comfort. "Then why are you up here? Why aren't you with her?"

Her face left its hiding spot on his chest, tilting up to face him finally. "She fell asleep. She's ok for now."

"Aye… aye, good then." Killian's eyes shifted over the rooftops, wishing they were the cliff's edge he knew from home and every streetlight a star in the sky. Maybe then he'd see the path to take. "She'll sleep off some of the shock, should make talking to her easier. Give us some time to sort things." He returned his attention to Ruby. "And Humbert? Has he settled finally?"

"If he isn't, he will be. I didn't stick around to find out; didn't want to be around Graham's second."

Killian arched a brow instead of voicing the obvious question. Ruby smiled the way people do when life is hard. "Quinn is a great wolf. But a shitty boyfriend."

"Something you want me to do?"

Ruby laughed sadly. "No. Graham needs him."

"I don't have to kill him, and I can promise he won't have a clue as to who I am, nor be able to connect it to you." It was a jest really, but Killian never made offers to maim, torture, or kill without the full intention of seeing them through.

A touch of real humor returned to her laugh this time. "No, not this time at least."

They stood embraced a moment longer before Ruby asked the question no one wanted answered. "You have to kill her now, don't you?"

"Short answer? Yes. Long answer? No."

She pulled back, brows pulled together in confusion. "What?"

He heaved a sigh. "Technically, she knows enough to be a liability. So yes, I would be ordered to kill her once I report it. _But_. But you don't do this job as long as I have without finding out all those pesky loopholes and addendums that could give her a pass. Once I _report_ it."

"So we stall the report until we find the right loophole."

Killian nodded. "We don't have much time, however. My deadline was rescinded the moment Walsh made it known he was still after Emma, though that was more of a formality. My handler is fickle in her judgments, but the end is always to _her_ benefit, no one else's. As long as Emma's still bait, she's safe."

"But that means letting Emma be bait. I know you don't know her that well Killian, but that is a really _bad_ idea. You said it yourself; she's not very good at being idle. Waiting for Walsh to come after her? That would last all of a day. And _only_ if we are lucky."

Killian released her completely. Resuming his pacing and adding a hand to his hair. It was the same spot in their problem that he had gotten stuck on earlier. "We're running out of options the longer this goes on Rubles. You might not like how this ends."

"Promise me that it ends with Emma alive, and I'll hold nothing against you."

He stopped, in his head and with his feet. Killian wasn't one to give a second thought to the collateral damage. So it was with an audible click to Killian's ears that the cause of his pacing revealed itself. And for all his years, he was at a loss as to why that cause even existed. But he could command its leave no more than he could command the stars.

"Aye, Ruby. You have my word; Emma comes out of this alive."

He must have said it in the wrong tone. Ruby cocked her head to the side, her face like that of a dog hearing a strange sound for the first time. "I should go help Granny wrangle up enough food for Graham. Once he's calm, he'll want to change back. The less cranky he is, the better."

"And Swan? You'll let me know how she fares?"

Ruby's eyebrows shot to her hairline. But she turned, making her way back to the rooftop door. Waving a dismissive hand in the air, "I'm sure she'll be fine. Get some sleep Killian."

Those words stuck with him for ten more minutes as he stood staring at the rooftop door, and they stuck with him as he marched down to Ruby's apartment. They were reverberating in his skull as he opened the door and made his way to a sleeping Swan, curled into an impossible ball on the chair. Those words were silenced when he noted the tear tracks on Swan's cheek's, and the furrow of her brow. The words didn't speak, as he lifted her from the chair, nor when she murmured and nuzzled her face into his chest. Ruby's words didn't sound again, until after he had lain Swan down in the bed and was brushing the hair away from her face. It was then when he nearly swore much too loud because his brain had finally caught up.

Ruby was almost as bad as her Grandmother.

Killian did swear when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

_**:This will be a while. Stay with her.** _

_Very possibly worse than her Grandmother._

He glanced down at Emma. She'd try to kill him on principle alone if she woke and saw him sitting there. A smile twitched the side of his mouth. If the conversation at dinner earlier was anything to go by, she's probably the only human with a decent chance at it. As it was, he shed his clothing, hiding them and his phone somewhere he hoped Emma wouldn't find readily. Quickly picking out the farthest point from Emma to go through his change. He'd do it in another apartment altogether, but he was told to stay. (He could listen. When it suited him to.) Keeping the bedroom door slightly open and the front door too should he need to move around; easier to nose through in the absence of thumbs.

Once more, he joined Emma in bed, on four legs instead of two should she wake before he was relieved of duty. As her newest friend having sniffed her out, and joining her for a nap. And if he dreamt, he'd say it was about running along the cliff sides of his birthplace. Leaving out the part of bright, sunlit skies, alternating between warming his flesh and his fur.

* * *

Emma woke in stages. She first opened her eyes and it was still dark through the window. The dog from her dreams lying next to her.

_I need more sleep if I'm seeing my dreams when I wake up…_

The second time she opened her eyes, the sky has been the faded blue just before the sun breaks the horizon. There was weight on the bed behind her, and a hand stroking her arm. A male voice was both shushing her, and issuing reassuring whispers. Emma would have sent her elbow back into his sternum normally, but he anticipated, holding her arms to her side.

"Easy Swan." The air grew heavy and pressed down on her senses, a far too familiar feeling. "Sleep now." She felt a cheek press to her head as slumber took her one more time.

The third time she opened her eyes, the sky was the bright blue of fall. When the chilled air is pushing out the summer haze, and before the clouds of rain and snow move in. There were sounds from Ruby's kitchen, with the smells of eggs and bacon filling the air. She was almost out of bed before the memories of the previous night flooded her brain.

Graham's cousin was the thing that chased away Walsh in the park. Decidedly NOT human with those eyes.

_Figures. Hot, intelligent, and funny. Of course he's not human. Priorities Emma… at least he's real, and you aren't insane. Yet._

Even her Graham, so livid with the news that he couldn't hide what he was anymore. Breaking Emma's heart when his body altered itself and his eyes burned. With her legs still dangling off the side of the bed, Emma flung herself backwards. Life had never been easy. Hell, "easy" generally made Emma nervous. But her world was quickly getting filled with the weird and strange. Walsh wasn't human. Graham's cousin - _Killian, his name was Killian_ \- wasn't human. Graham wasn't human. Good money that Ruby and Granny weren't either.

Emma's face scrunched up trying to hold back tears. She hated crying, and it seemed that's all she did lately. Cry, scream, and sleep. She didn't like feeling scared, or anxious. She was done. Just done. Walsh had lied to her, and tried to kill her. Killian had lied -possibly even stalked her. Graham had lied. Graham had been lying to her for years. Ruby too, if her gut feeling was right. (It usually was.) They had all lied. Treated her like a simple child. Couldn't handle Santa Claus being made up, ushered away to bed, pat on the head; _lied_ to. It wasn't even the part that hurt. She never would have cared what Ruby and Graham really were. They had treated her like family, given her a home and a place to start. But they never trusted her with who they really were.

_You can't truly love someone if you don't trust them, right?_

Tears fell anyway.

"Are you going to wallow all morning? Breakfast is getting cold." Granny's voice bellowed. Emma had forgotten what had woken her.

But she obediently got out of bed and ventured out of the bedroom. Granny was seated at the dining table, sipping a mug of coffee, her own plate already finished. Emma plopped in the chair and Granny rose from hers, pouring the still hot coffee for both of them now.

"I want you to eat everything in front of you before you talk. And don't you give me one line about not being hungry girl. Stress eats a body's energy faster than a triathlon. And you've only more coming your way. You won't get another cup of coffee until that plate, and that glass of orange juice is gone either."

Emma wasn't in the mood for orders, no matter how good that food looked. Least of all from someone who had been keeping secrets. She crossed her legs, folded her arms, and channeled every ounce of teenage defiance she ever had, sitting back in her chair. She could play this game too.

Granny's lips twitched. "You can do that all day if you like Emma. But by this afternoon, you're going to have three people in here overwhelming you with the truth. You can go into it dumb and blind or I can give you some of the bullet points now. But I won't have you interrupting me, so it'll be done with you eating. Your choice."

_Manipulative old bat._

Emma stabbed the eggs, filling her fork and her mouth.

"I swear if you don't have the blood in you, I'll be a day-walking vampire." Emma froze in her eating, Granny waved the comment off. "I'll explain that another time. But right now, you landed in a mess. And I'll explain that in a moment. First: Vampires, Fairies, Werewolves… all that stuff, it's all real. Look at me like I'm off my meds all you like girl, but you know I'm right. Always existed, but kept a secret for everybody's sake. Humans feel safer not knowing what goes bump in the night, the rest of us feel safer not being hunted.

"You my _dragotsenny_ , are surrounded by wolves. Have been since you were young. We function like our animal cousins, running in packs and the like. Do you know anything about how packs are run?" Emma nodded, but Granny didn't continue till another mouthful of food was taken. "Graham is the local Alpha. It's his job to look out for his people, and he has considered you his people for some time now. However, his obligations are to his pack. Never mistake his affections for you as a free pass; you won't always come first to him. Ruby, Killian, and I aren't loyal to any one pack. Pack politics never suited me well; Ruby has enjoyed the minor freedom she's had. Killian… well, that's his story to tell.

"Walsh is a wolf gone insane, Killian has the job of killing him for everyone's sake. A job he failed to do when your life was on the line. Don't ask me why because I'm sure I don't know. Right now, those other three are trying to figure out: how to keep you safe, kill Walsh, and keep this all from The Council. Ask Killian and Graham who they are, they have to deal with The Council more than I do. But you should be aware that knowing what we are, even as little as you did before breakfast, is normally a death sentence. For the human, and for the wolves involved. It's not just your life on the line here."

Granny stopped her debriefing, taking another drag on her coffee. Sitting as if the entire world didn't just shift out of focus and if what little she said would be enough to satisfy Emma's questions.

"So, I'm not crazy. I did see what I saw. But I've risked everyone's lives by surviving?"

Granny nodded, "Pretty much."

"Goody for me."

"We wouldn't want it any other way _dragotsenny_. You know better than anyone: Family doesn't start, nor end, with blood." Her tone was soft, not something Emma had ever heard from the old woman. "If you had died, we would have bypassed all this trouble. But Graham, and especially Ruby, would have been lost. You fill parts of their hearts they can't find elsewhere."

"And you Granny?"

"Best not think about what an old wolf like me would do. Keeping control this last week like I have been hasn't been easy. I don't blame you for any of this child, but I do think its way past time for you to join the game."

"Anything else I should know?"

Granny nodded again. She raised a hand to her hair, and pulled it off. "A few." She pulled off the netting that kept her real hair flat, giving her scalp a good scratch. It was a reddish-brown, much the same as Ruby's. "One: I don't look as old as I've pretended to be, but I'm far older than I've ever looked. Wolves aren't immortal, and we do age. Just _really_ slowly. Two: The whole 'dominance' things dogs do? It's a part of us too. I can't tell you how many times you've sent me and Ruby into hysterics because you would look Graham in the eyes too long, and he had to force down his wolf. Holding eye contact is like an open challenge. Now that you know though, try to keep the button pushing and whatnot to a minimum. Look at the chin or the shoulder. Not the forehead. Down and submissive is always better, over their shoulder to something behind them if you're feeling the need to push it. Three: Both Graham and Killian are dominant, unmated males. You and Ruby are unmated females. Both Graham and Killian feel they have particular claims on each of you. Ruby knows how to deal with it so follow her lead. If nothing else, don't stand too close to either male. Cling to Ruby if anything. It'll be hard enough for them to keep their wolves in check without adding territory fights into this. It's archaic, I know, just try to roll with it. Four: We can smell emotions, and bodily reactions. Fear, anger, arousal, lying. All of it. Don't lie about it if they call you on it. Between the two of us? This is also the best time to get the open truth from them. Graham and Killian would love nothing more than to call the other a liar. It's underhanded, but if you can't compete on an even playing field, why not tilt the field in your favor?"

Emma sipped her coffee while Granny cleared the table. However unfocused her world was now; plotting out her next few steps had become glaringly clear. She was done, so very done. She had been played like a game piece too often. And no matter how good and noble their intentions, Emma wasn't going to let the actions of her friends slide. If dominance was a wolf's M.O., then she'd be damned if she let any of them pull it on her. The same rules play out in the foster and group homes, and she remembered the basics. She might be "just a human", but she wasn't a damsel in distress either.

Emma lifted her head to ask one more question. Granny was beaming down at her from her place at the kitchen sink. "They're in Killian's apartment down the hall in E. Take a shower, get clothes on. They'll hear you coming. Killian might scent you first; his nose picks up scents faster than most. Don't let them bullshit you."

* * *

"She's going to the pack house! She'll be safe and protected there." Graham was pacing figure eight's up and down Killian's living room. No less agitated than the night before.

"Right Humbert, because keeping her confined has worked splendidly so far. Tell me again how she enjoys being coddled. I'm sure it'll be less absurd the more you say it." Killian had refused to sit and be lower than Graham. Opting instead to stand at the windows and expose his back. Not submissive, but vulnerable enough to keep the Alpha pacified.

"Shh. Someone's walking down the hall." Ruby had been standing still, holding herself closer to the door. Somebody had to listen out for civilian ears, especially with the volume Graham and Killian were using.

Killian laughed mirthlessly. "Not just someone."

* * *

Emma knocked on the door of Killian's home, noting it was where Ruby had stopped her and talked about Graham's cousin. She knew they were in there even if the place sounded silent (The muffled shouting of male voices halting when she got within a few yards of the door), and was half-tempted to barge in. Still, the door remained closed, like a clubhouse she wasn't invited in to.

She kept her voice low, but clear, "You know who's out here, and I know everyone in there. Open the door or I go outside screaming about Werewolves and Vampires. Naked." She waited three seconds. "Don't believe me? Gee, that sounds like a dare. You know how much I like a good dare Ruby."

The door swung wide.

Emma strode through and took stock. Tensions were obviously already high, so she minded Granny's advice and avoided direct eye contact with the men. But they all needed a dressing down. To the point where her clothes were deliberate. It was the same boots she had run from Walsh in. The original jeans had been trashed, but these were similar. But it was the tank top that she intended for the focal point. She forewent a bra mostly because the straps still chafed the scars, but the lack of it gave the spaghetti straps the full effect. It put her scarring center stage, displaying them like a badge. Every mottled color standing out against her skin. She'd been hurt. But she wasn't down. She spun a slow circle, making sure all three were able to see it.

She zeroed in on Graham first. "How old are you? Not perceived age."

"Old. Older than this country."

"Well gee, wasn't that specific? Hard to be completely honest with me? Fine. I must look young and fragile to you, don't I?"

"Yes."

"He didn't kill me Graham. He didn't break me. I'm up, walking on my own. But I get it. Rules have to be followed for the good of all. But knowing that someone I cared about had been lying to me for so long? _That_. That nearly broke me." She turned and looked to Ruby. "You too. You and I will talk alone another time, and you will tell me everything I want to know. Consequences be damned."

She faced Graham again, "Us though? We'll be fine… eventually. What's stopping me from forgiving you outright like I could for Ruby is that you hoped for something more. Something romantic and permanent. And you wanted it while _lying_ to me." Graham started to speak, but she waved off anything he might have said. "I know. You have rules. And other people to care for right? Big bad Alpha or whatever. But you were there before, during, and after someone else pulled the same bullshit. It's going to take me time to settle up with you doing the same thing. Better reasons Graham, but the same thing."

She turned away, giving Graham full view of her scars again. Taking two full strides away. "Killian, it would be easier to talk to you if you weren't hiding behind a dining table and trying to blend in with the curtains."

"For you perhaps Swan, but I'm rather fond of certain parts you seem hell bent on removing." He rounded the table in spite of his words. "Let's have it then."

"You saved me in the park? Even though letting me die would have been better for everyone?"

"I persuaded Walsh from doing what he wanted yes. I fail to see how that would be 'better for everyone', as you say."

"Fine, better for you."

"Easier."

Emma watched his face. He was good, kept it neutral while she asked questions meant to provoke. So she brought them faster. Wolf or not, the brain can only keep up with so much. "How old are you Killian?"

"334."

She back-nodded her head to the other male in the room. "Graham older than you?"

He shrugged. "Younger, by perhaps 100 years or so."

"White eyes? Why not yellow?"

"If we come through this, I promise to tell you all my little secrets." He leaned in with a slight step closer to her.

She arched her brow when he popped the last syllable. "White eyes... you're the dog that was in my room?"

"Yes."

"Why were you there?" She slid a little closer to him.

"Walsh issued a threat on you. I was searching your room." Emma was -for now- keeping to the rule of no prolonged eye contact. Not that Killian was making it easy. His eyes were boring into her head.

"So I woke up and you played puppy?"

"Didn't want to frighten you further, love. Not that you seemed to mind..." A hand reached out and grazed the ticklish spot he had found that night. It took so much not to flinch.

"You were in my bed again last night?"

"In Ruby's bed yes, you just happened to be occupying it." He popped the "t" again.

Emma grinned. "You snuggled."

His mouth mirrored hers. "You liked it."

Still holding her grin, "Why didn't you let me die?"

Killian paused, and then Emma broke the rule. She stared him down, eye to eye. Sliding closer again till air barely passed between, voice dropping half and octave. "Would you like me to thank you?" Lips angled with his, "For bringing me home? For saving my life?" She tilted, and he copied, "For endangering Graham's and Ruby's? For letting that psycho get away? Is my life worth theirs and maybe that of another innocent girl?"

She watched as he came to his answer, not knowing which way he settled. In that moment, it didn't matter. What mattered is she got through his thick skull the chaos he had caused in keeping her. The chaos they all had caused. She made damn sure that these "dominant males" stopped treating her like she was made of glass, she might be out-gunned but she wasn't incapable. She put space between herself and Killian again, moved to put equal distance between all four of them.

"Why was I under watch Killian?"

"Like I said," His voice was rough, needing to cough and clear it away. "Walsh threatened you. Twice now. He sent me a photo of you sleeping a few nights ago, when I first came to your room. Last night, he had been in your apartment. Shredded your bed and left you a few trinkets. He keeps the girls who fight back. Likes to break them. He's not very dominant as wolves go. So he makes these girls his pets, to make himself feel bigger and stronger."

"Mmmm... doesn't tell me why he shredded the bed. That's violent, not taunting. What set him off?"

Killian scratched behind his ear. "If I were to hazard a guess, darling, it would be because he smelled me on it."

Her eyebrows flew up, "He was jealous of you?"

"Wouldn't be the first time, love." Killian's arms opened wide, an arrogant mask blurring his features.

Emma snorted. "If you say so."

Ruby snickered and Graham had a mild coughing fit.

"So he wants me? Fine. What's the plan?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone: I'm an American woman raised in one of the worst school systems to date (yay California -.-), so I apologize for poor translations to other languages. I'm using Google Translate, so at least it's close? Anyway, occasionally you'll see Russian or Irish Gaelic. I'm fairly certain those are the only two variants... and I'll make sure to note which so you can follow along. (Today's was Russian) You'll see why later on why I don't just provide a glossary.


	9. Tumblers and an Umbrella

**Chapter 8:**

**Tumblers and an Umbrella**

* * *

The four of them bickered and argued the rest of the afternoon and for the better part of that evening, alternating whose side they took throughout each subject. In the end, the only thing they could settle on was that dinner was needed. In which their bickering moderately picked back up as to what to eat; Emma's choice won, claiming her injuries gave her first call. A pleased, yet entirely knowing look came from Killian. Emma shrugged him –and the tiny flip in her stomach– away. It didn't matter if he knew she was using everyone's guilt against them. Nor did it matter that he seemed to approve of her tactics. Tensions remained as they waited for the food to arrive, only to evaporate completely when everything was being plated in the close confines of Killian's kitchen. Emma watched with puzzled curiosity, it seemed to be the great equalizer. But the biggest curiosity was the openly affectionate behavior the three wolves seemed to have now. Casual touches on arms and shoulders, comforting rubs on the back if one of them got up to get a drink and moved close enough to another. Even Killian and Graham gave slaps on the back and shoulders when a joke was told, or a story from ages ago. It wasn't something she figured wolves (or Killian and Graham if she was to believe Granny's words) would do around food, but a welcome surprise even if the surprise hurt at its edges. As always, Emma was the odd girl out. She didn't have the long history they had, hell she wasn't even the same species. Sure, she had her own time with Graham and Ruby. But those five or so years couldn't compare to the decades –centuries even– that these three had. A quick shot of longing went through her chest, catching Killian's knowing look once more. Even if her eyes didn't see it this time.

With full bellies, they settled with an after dinner coffee, trying to bring their minds back to the business at hand. Ruby scooted her chair closer to Emma's, firmly rubbing the ever itching scar on Emma's back. But a phone call from Quinn took Graham away to attend pack business, halting any planning they might have gotten through now that tempers had calmed down.

He stood just behind her right shoulder (the one that wasn't throbbing) and braced a hand on gently on it; bending to place a kiss to the top of her head. "Tell me we are still family."

Emma's hand crossed her chest and grabbed his without thought. "You think I'd be this angry with you if we weren't?" His head dropped to hers again, insisting with his nose, so she indulged him. "Yes, Graham. We are still family." She missed the look given to Killian over her head, and the returning scowl. "And you are still in the dog house."

"Great. She's starting with the puns." His free hand gave a gentle tug to the hair at the base of Emma's skull. "I will check in as I can and return when I am done. Do nothing without me."

Emma held still and kept quiet as Graham left. She waited until she saw Killian's shoulders relax before she turned to Ruby. Emma was fully aware that though the camaraderie was genuine, the men had played nice for her benefit. "I have never seen Graham that touchy-feely. What gives?"

Ruby sighed, "I could give you the short version, but it would involve me explaining a few other things, and it would just be long anyway. Basic dog and wolf behavior-"

Emma waved at Ruby, "Granny gave me that run down. How does that relate to Graham?"

"Well, a dominant has to protect its own. Territory, family, food source... Graham has felt territorial over you since he met you. Neal only made it worse, so how do you think all this is affecting him?"

"So the wanting to smuggle me away to a dark room with no windows is his idea of protecting me?"

Ruby shrugged. "More or less. He knows he can keep you safe there."

"Ok, so how does that explain the touchy-feely stuff that was going on?"

"Well... I guess the best way to think of it, it's Nature's way of dealing with the constant need a dominant feels to defend. It gets stressful. Damn stressful. To balance out the aggression and whatnot, we feel an equal amount of affection to those we see as ours. Not that we own each other, but... as in Killian is my friend. _Mine._ You are my family. _Mine._ I don't own either of you, but you are mine. It is as much my job to protect you, as it is to comfort you. You see it in the animal kingdom all the time. Group grooming, huddled together in sleep when warmth isn't an issue. Scientists are only now catching on to the fact that animals mourn the dead."

"Nature's way of reminding us why we protect what's ours, love." Emma shot Killian a look, but he wasn't looking her way. He only spun his mug in a slow circle.

"Right..." Emma continued on, "So if there is a dominant, that means there are submissives?"

"Oh yeah, but they are rare. Wolves are predators, Emma. Hard to be a predator and roll over for anyone wandering through your home." Ruby glanced to her phone. "The rest can wait though. I need to get down to the diner and help Granny close up. C'mon. I'll walk you to the apartment."

Emma gaped a moment, shifting her eyes between Ruby and Killian. She wanted more. And everyone with answers had stopped talking for the night. She did the only thing left to her; she rose and took Ruby's offered arm.

They made it to the door only for Ruby to turn around to face Killian again. He hadn't moved from his chair, nor stopped looking at his mug. "Killian?"

"Aye love?" He still wasn't looking up.

"Thanks for letting us use your home all day."

His brow arched and he gave them the Devil's smile, finally bringing his face up. "Aye love." But his eyes fixated on Emma. "Anytime."

* * *

"So it comes from instinct for Graham to swaddle me and kiss every boo-boo?"

Ruby laughed. "Maybe not that extreme, but yes."

Emma allowed Ruby to see her all the way to the bed, even let Ruby tuck her in. After a quick –but solo– change into pajamas of course. Knowing now what something as simple as touch could mean for Ruby, and knowing how much affection Ruby had done over the years, Emma was catching on that Ruby had been holding back a great deal. Even at that particular moment, with Ruby perched on the side of the bed, combing her fingers through Emma's hair, it was easy to see Ruby was easing Emma into the concept rather than shoving her into the deep end.

"Should I let him?"

Ruby's smile shifted to one of absolute pride. "Look at you, catching on. You always were so smart." There was a twinkle in Ruby's eyes that Emma would have to ask about later. "You shouldn't let him do too much. The more you let him do for you, the less he'll let you alone."

"Give an inch, he takes a mile?"

Ruby beamed. "See? Smart. If you value your independence, don't hand it over. That's true of most dominant wolves, not just him. But!" A finger waggled in front of Emma's nose. "Don't let that stop you from asking for help. From any of us."

"Yes Mom." There was no describing the look that crossed Ruby's face that time. Too many emotions all at once. It wasn't the first time Emma had used the phrase on Ruby, but it was the first time Emma started to feel the weight of what it meant to her dark haired friend. On impulse, (something Emma was incredibly prone to) she linked her fingers in Ruby's hand. "After this is over, how about you and me hit up a spa? Hot stone massages, mud baths, facial something-or-others… the whole nine. We'll sip margaritas and spill every detail we ever hid for whatever reason."

Ruby's brow bowed, "Every detail?"

"Except the gross ones."

Ruby nodded. "It's a date."

Emma managed to wait a full thirty-seven minutes (the last five were counted out on the edge of the bed) before she slipped out the front door.

* * *

Killian's door was ajar as Emma approached it for the second time that day. Being a bounty hunter, the immediate thoughts of trouble –bad guys with loud guns– sprung to mind. Only now, it was laced with the bad guys turning into snarling large dogs.

_Oh working will be just fantastic now._

She pushed the door lightly with her fingertips, testing for resistance. It gave no creaks and she eased it again. Stepping through on the balls of her feet, trying to remain quiet. If they were wolves, they already knew she was here. If they were human, then maybe Killian had already dealt with them. And if he couldn't, he would at least know he wasn't alone.

_Hang out with a few supernatural beings and I walk away with a hero complex, awesome._

The lights were off save for a few table lamps in the living room. A bottle of rum with two tumblers sat out on the coffee table in front of her. The windows Killian had been staring out of when she walked in that afternoon were now open; letting in the chilled fall air. Emma wasn't a wolf, but even she could smell the rain that was soon to fall. Besides the dishwasher running in the kitchen, the apartment was quiet. Her ears perked for the slightest twitch, her eyes straining in the dim lighting. Trying so hard to pick up everything, that she missed the very thing she was looking for. She missed the movement behind her as she crept further into the room. She missed the body inching closer, missed the hand reaching out for her. She even mistook the tingles on her scalp for nerves, when the hand shifted through the ends of her hair.

But she heard the sigh leave his lips.

Emma shifted her feet to dart to the kitchen on her right. But she was pulled hard to a male body by hands wrapped tight around her upper arms. Breath hot on her neck as his nose tucked under the shell of her ear and breathed her in. His voice was a hoarse whisper with lips dancing next to her skin. "Rule one Swan: Never run from a predator, of _any_ variety. The instinct to give chase and capture is often stronger than the creature's reasoning. And we don't worry about the damage we create to accomplish that feat, not till much later. Rule two: Never enter a domain unarmed when you know at least one occupant has senses superior to your own. They will get the drop on you. Every. Single. Time."

Killian held Emma a moment longer before he eased her away, letting go only when his arms reached the full length of their extension. She turned carefully, picking up on his tension, though not the reason for it. She met his eyes before she remembered the rule against it. They were still blue, but paler than that evening at dinner, so Emma settled on studying his arm.

_He's not wearing a shirt. He's wearing a tank in chilled weather and not a shirt. He has nice arms… very nice… painting on the wall. There is a painting behind him and I am looking at the painting now._

"Ruby was right about you." Emma ignored the smug tone in his voice.

"In what way?"

"You're a quick study. If you'd prefer to look at my face, even make eye contact, it shouldn't be a bother love."

She gave in, turning her face back to him. His eyes were his normal shade of bright blue. _Not a bother for him, maybe._ "You're not a dominant then? Granny said you were."

His eyes paled again, and his pupils dilated. "Oh, I'm very _dominant_ , darling." His mouth exaggerated the consonants and drawled the vowels. His lips turning into a smile that could bring a nun to a life of scandal. "However, you acquiesced my dominance more than once already. My wolf isn't so demanding of rules and regulations. I can promise that no offense will be taken if you wish to look on me."

"Alright, if you say so."

He hummed to her timid response, moving away to close the door. Emma's eyes followed him, taking in the pajamas he wore and the twin glasses still on the table. The idea clicked and fell out of her mouth before she had the good sense to remember her manners. "Oh god, you have someone over, don't you?"

He chuckled. "Aye, a young lass… impetuous and impatient." He turned and linked his hands behind his back. A move that would look condescending on most people, but he made look more militaristic, as he strolled towards her again, "Feisty with a temper," till he was in front of her once more, mirth and mischief dancing on his features. "A beautiful blonde woman, adorned with green eyes, who would _kill_ me if I didn't provide her with some decent liquor, that I had promised only a night ago."

_Son of a bitch._

" _Other_ than me Killian." Emma folded her arms, pushing boredom and annoyance as close to the surface of her emotions as she could. Praying he'd read those rather than anything else.

He canted his head to the side as if he could hear the thoughts in her head, or could read them on her skin. Emma thought he resembled a dog more than anything. She had no idea what he saw, only that his face softened a fraction before he spoke again. "No Miss Swan. No human or other creature is here."

Her eyes narrowed. "You knew I was coming?"

"Of course."

"How? Some werewolf superpower? Because I didn't even decide I was going to show up until ten minutes ago."

He laughed and made his way to the sofa and table, pouring two fingers in each glass. "No, nothing like that. You're a bit of an open book; I could see you hadn't gotten everything you wanted when Ruby escorted you home. I'm also keenly aware of your predisposition to not give up. I figured it was merely a matter of time."

"So sneaking up on me was?"

He lounged back into the corner of the couch, waving an arm to the open end, taking a leisurely sip from his glass.

_Join him or silence… I've had worse propositions. Recently even. But…_

She lifted her chin a touch, keeping her arms folded. Her strides purposely slow, till she stood next to his legs. Brushing them with her own as she leaned down, grabbing the remaining glass. Lifting a small toast to him, she drank it back in measured gulps. She maintained her composure as the rum burned and slashed its way down her throat. She could see it now, the wolf behind the man. How he tracked her movements, even the subtle ones. She was pushing him again. Standing, where he was sitting. Swallowing the amber liquid at her pace rather than his. She was used to dominance games. Foster care is rampant with them. Being a female and single in New York, is a daily match. She wasn't trying to win right now; there wasn't a way she could if what she was told is true. But if their attempts to take care of her needed to be regulated, so did the constant reminders of how big and strong they were. Killian didn't have the emotional ties like Graham and Ruby did, so reminding him that she wasn't worth discounting would have to suffice. She sat only when the glass was empty, but she didn't return it to the table. Instead, she curled into her end of his couch. On her side and facing Killian, she held out her glass for a refill. His mouth quirked, but he consented. His hand wrapped around hers, steadying the glass as he poured another two fingers. Emma didn't drink this time, simply held it as she rested her head on the back cushion. A move that exposed her neck to him.

She could play games too.

"You snuck up on me why?"

He had to clear his throat before talking again. "A lesson Swan. What better opportunity?"

"And you couldn't just tell me?"

"Now where would the fun be in that?" His mouth tilted in that smile he always had at the ready.

"Oh, you know... the simple fun of my adrenaline not spiking for a whole day, and sparking memories of running for my life through the park."

His face instantly fell, looking genuinely mortified for her sake. "My apologies Miss Swan. It was never my intention to cause such a reaction. I only thought to impart some basics since you're openly running with a more dangerous crowd, and the tangible is easier to recall than simple words. I forgot the circumstances in my arrogance. I ask your pardon."

Emma blinked once. Twice. "That's quite an apology."

Killian grew serious, "It was an offense. And a grave one."

She huffed out a humorless laugh, taking another drag from her tumbler. "Hell, I didn't even get a fraction of that from my ex. And I ended up going to jail for him."

" _For_ him?"

"Well, I played my part. I would have gone anyway, or got a year of community service. I helped him finish a job lifting these watches. He let me hang on to one while he went and sold the rest. We were going to run off together with that money. Change our names... have a home..." Emma stared into her glass, watching the memories float around. "But he set me up. I got caught with the one he gave me, and he took off on his own. I got eleven months. And that wasn't even the worst of it."

She was too busy watching her past to see his eyes flare white. "This would be the Neal Ruby mentioned before?"

"Mmm. But that was... god, almost eleven years ago now."

"You were a minor?"

"Yep."

"Ruby said Graham knew of him, I thought you were only here for five years."

"Neal ended up being a bounty. He was using a different name that time. I let myself get talked into a drink so he could explain what happened." She shrugged. "I needed closure. I drank one too many, caught up in things, and he went to the bathroom and ran. Left me with the bill and the repair of the window he shattered."

When she remained quiet, he pressed her to finish. "The story doesn't end there, what did you do to him?"

"Nothing."

" _Nothing?_ " His voice held the same disbelief her pride had.

"Nothing. When he first set me up, I used to think that maybe he got picked up too, and the ADA was lying to me. Or maybe they rolled him and he gave me up under pressure. But leaving me at the bar showed me that he was just a grade 'A' bastard. So I let him go. He'd screw up again, get caught for something else. I had what I needed."

"I'm sorry love."

Her smile was sad and thin. "Me too."

His hand reached up, scratching behind his ear. She saw him use that move a couple times now. A nervous tic that was far too endearing. "I seem to have diverted you from your original intended conversation. How about you tell me what had you sneak off to seek me out."

"You mean it's not obvious?" _Did I really just say that?_

Killian sat up and forward. "There are many things, Emma, which I can construe as 'obvious' for seeking me out." His hand reached out, brushing back a few fallen stray wisps at her hairline. "Late at night... all by yourself… knowing that doing so would invoke the ire of a certain Alpha. You'll have to be a bit more specific."

She watched him. In a single moment, his flirting was flying past her limits at record speeds and in his face she was staring at something gentle, almost affectionate. He was a living duality. Her mind was having trouble deciding where he functioned most. She refused to acknowledge what confusions he did to the rest of her. So she pulled back as much as cushions would allow, sipping on her rum to put something between them. Ever perceptive, he smiled as he sat back to his corner of the couch.

_Might not be so bad being an open book to someone…_

Emma began shifting her perception of him as something other than a pheromone soaked madman. But as her assumptions of him began to settle in a certain way, "You, my darling Swan, want to know everything I have on Walsh, and any plan of attack I might currently have in place or am working on." Killian shot her a wink with that Devil's grin.

… _then again._

"I need to be in on this Killian. I need to be there when he goes down."

"No you don't love."

"You can read me so well, you know what I need?"

"Yes." Her eyes flew wide, challenge bright and sharp on her tongue. "Before you neuter me Swan, you are outgunned for this particular fight, and this fight isn't to disarm him and take him to the police. This ends in his death."

Emma scoffed. "And here I thought you said you knew what I needed."

He leaned forward again faster than she could react to. A hand taking hold of her chin, giving her eyes no choice but to look at him, or close them all together. Her pride would never allow the second option. She got to see the vibrant blue hold a golden ring around his pupils. White and silver flecks started to appear, merging into streaks and splotches. Until all there was, was the pale white of his wolf looking back at her.

"You want to see this ended, the way you couldn't for Neal. You want to prove you aren't an easy target for the dregs of society." His voice grew hard, the authority pushing down on her. It was a sensation she found herself becoming all too familiar with. "You _want_ to show this new, big, bad world that you shouldn't be overlooked because you aren't one of us. You _want_ to show Ruby and Graham you can take of yourself, to both keep your independence and make them proud. You. _Want_."

The push evaporated into the air, the blue returned, his thumb stroking softly on her jaw. "What you _need_ , is to realize no matter how much you want to handle Walsh, you won't survive it alone. What you need, is to realize that risking yourself like you don't matter will only cause more suffering. What you _need_ , is Walsh dead." His thumb stroked dangerously near the corner of her mouth. "And what _we_ need is to stop as much damage from reaching you again."

Her eyebrow went high. He had valid points, for rational thinking. "So I should do as Graham likes? Hide in a corner till someone chases away the big bad wolf? To take on faith, trust, and pixie dust that it's over with?" He her go, retracting slowly as she went on. "I understand their worry. But I need to be there for the end of this, or _I'll_ always worry. I don't care that he dies, I just care that I get to watch the life drain out of him."

"Bloody stubborn woman." He huffed, shifting away for his drink.

"Granny always said that she'd be surprised if I didn't have the blood in me. Some days I wish I did."

Killian laughed. "She didn't mean her own blood darling, though I'm sure that was implied also. Many wolves mate with humans. If the pregnancy goes to term, the offspring are born human, but carry the blood of a werewolf. Those children tend to have all the personality traits we do. Hard headed, territorial, short tempers..."

She didn't know her own parents. The idea that she might be part werewolf was too much to consider. Besides, she was never that lucky. Outside had begun the _plit plat_ of heavy raindrops; Emma let the conversation fall so she could listen and absorb his words. He might be the duality, but Emma was the one that felt like she was being pulled in two directions.

"If you swear to me Swan, that you won't go gallivanting off on your own... if you swear you'll think of your family before you chase your vengeance, I will share all I know. I will keep you apprised, and involved as much as I can. But you have to understand, there are rules at play that stop me from telling you everything. You'll have to trust me."

She pursed her lips contemplating the offer. She wouldn't get half of it from either Ruby or Graham, but her time with Killian didn't even amount to a full day yet.

But the bastard grinned like he heard the words spoken out loud. "Things will be smoother if you do."

"Ok, fine. Give me what you have on hand right now, I have about another two hours before Ruby finds out I'm not in bed waiting for her." A sly smile of her own crept over her face. "She promised I could be the big spoon tonight."

Killian hit his knee on the table trying to stand up, nearly dropping his glass. He was trying to scowl. "Bad form love."

Emma giggled.

Killian tucked the sound away with the others.

* * *

A rooftop in a New York rain might not be the best place to take up vigil, but there wasn't much other choice. It gave him the best view. Even if it was from across the street. The rain muffled their voices, but the open window gave him an unhindered view. His would-be-assassin was grabbing and touching what was his. Flirting with her, tempting her. Giving her liquor to make her less resistant.

She would be punished of course for the insubordination, but he couldn't fault her completely. It was _him_. The Council's retriever. He would die. The asshole would die and he'd make his pet watch. Show her who was stronger, who was better.

She was the one. She was _his_.

A rustling of wet fabric came from behind Walsh, but he didn't stop watching. A woman stood next to him, clad in a long dark trench coat, hidden under an umbrella. She was shorter than Walsh by a few inches, keeping the details of her face unknown with that bothersome umbrella she used rain or sun. The most Walsh ever saw was piles of dark hair pinned up. He liked her this way, where he could imagine her face the way he wanted it to be rather than the way she usually showed him.

"You see? She is still here. They just hid her from you. From your gifts." Her voice was aged, refined, and smooth. Walsh had decided it would be what Bourbon would sound like if alcohol could speak.

"You didn't tell me _he_ was here, or that she was with him." Anger bubbled in his skin. Every raindrop hurt, irritating the sensations crawling through him.

"Why does that worry you? Is it so easy to take from you?"

"She was mine! She _is_ MINE! And he stole her away, made her confused." He still watched them. Body dancing to rush in and take her to the home he had set up for them.

"Would you storm the building, make her yours again?"

"She has too many guards. Why did you tell me where she was if you won't help me reclaim her?"

"All things to those that wait. They'll be making a move soon, and when they do, they'll be vulnerable. She'll be vulnerable. You can strike then."

"Too much waiting."

Her laugh was cold, falling harder than the wet drops on his head. "My darling boy, has Grandmother ever steered you wrong? Why do you still doubt me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posterity Note: In the early stages, this fic had one bad guy. Simple and done. Maybe 10-12 chapters total. And then I got hit with walking pneumonia. I was spiking fevers and the crazy dreams that came with. One insomniatic, antibiotic induced, fever dream later... it wanted to be bigger. I’ve mentioned word vomit yes? There really isn’t any other way for me to describe this fic, because it just keeps coming up. 
> 
> Everyone: I have received a few notes hoping that I eventually put Graham in his place, so it leaves me feeling like I've written him poorly. I hope this chapter helps explain where he comes from a little more.


	10. Flowers...

**Chapter 9:**

**Flowers...**

* * *

All wolves can sense the moon, though they may not be so swayed by her call anymore. There are wolves who swear they can smell it, but that was more often regarded as a "big fish" story left to the older wolves to tell. Regardless of their method, all wolves inherently know when the moon is out and what phase she passes through. Tonight, the moon was Wet, resembling the Cheshire Cat's smile. Not that Killian could see it through the low and heavy rain clouds that blanketed the city. The air (even city air) right before the break of a storm was one of the few things Killian still looked forward to as the moisture in the air heightened the leafy smell of any and all plant life in the vicinity. A particular delight he reveled in whilst holed up in cities of steel and cement; the wild breaking through the contained. He opened a singular window to let the scent flood his apartment while he went about is nightly business.

He knew Emma would show, he just didn't think she would be long doing so. His nightly habits were at their end when her sunlight filled his nose from the hallway outside his home. At his age, finding things to be new _or_ peculiar was a rare event. Leave it to this Swan girl to give him both. Warmth and brightness made its way into his home to contend with the dark and wet already seated there. It was no different than spinning in circles as a child –until falling felt like flying. Utterly disorienting, and utterly incredible.

Killian didn't need his electric lamps to see in the dark and as such, usually left them turned off; only ever really using them for the company he might entertain. He sent up a voice of thanks to the Gods that he remembered his manners enough to leave a couple on for Emma. Though it seemed what light was given, was not enough for her to see into his room on her left. She took no notice of him when her gaze swept over the open doorway, the scent of her unease in its wake. Her body lines were tense, her movements slow and calculated. If he hadn't had that dinner with her a night before, Killian would assume this woman was constantly hyped up for a fight to break out around her. And just like that, he was slinking behind her, waiting for her to catch on, eager for her reaction. He managed to get within touching distance, her yellow hair calling to his fingers. His wolf answered the summons, reaching out with their shared hand, gliding it through the soft ends. But it was Killian's breath of contentment that startled Emma. It was his fault; he shouldn't have hidden away like a child playing a game. But then she tried to run and he did the best thing he could by slamming her body to his. His wolf was already too close to the surface in playing with her. No telling what might have happened if she gave it something to chase. The result, to Killian's dismay, was her body now lined up with his own far too intimately. Her pulse was beating away in a frantic rhythm; he could feel her blood pumping through her skin souring her sunshine with the bitterness of fear. Killian couldn't explain when his head became bent to her ear, nor could he manage to pull away. There were words leaving his mouth, but they weren't his.

_Ease off, you buggering bastard. She's had enough._

Killian spent the next couple of hours maintaining control from his wolf, who stayed so close under his skin. Yet another sensation Emma bestowed to him. Killian wasn't used to gripping his control so tightly during non-violent situations, wasn't used to his wolf edging the surface for anything other than hostile negotiations. He felt none of that for her –though a few of her stories had him feeling as such to people he didn't know. His fervent hold slipped when she boldly challenged him back for certain topics, and nearly dropped when she relented dominance to him again in others. ( _Gods that slender neck…_ ) He needed to her leave so he could find his balance once more; he wanted her to stay so he could soak in the mix of light and wet taking over his home. Left with little other choice, he helped Emma understand exactly what was after her. Maybe she'd frighten and hide away somewhere safe. Maybe she'd be strengthened and survive. Whatever the outcome, he hid behind the files he has compiled of Walsh Singe over the years, indulging his wolf with the occasional brush of the fingers when handing her and endless stream of folders.

" _I know you're an old man set in his ways and all… but you could just keep all this on your laptop. Less clutter."_

" _Of course. But keeping hard copies, rather than digital ones, means the thieves have to come for them personally instead remotely accessing them from heaven knows where."_

" _Right, because they haven't invented these things called flash drives, or portable hard drives for those exact reasons."_

" _Tell you what Swan. After this is over, you can upgrade any of my methods you so choose."_

She turned out to be better at their shared trade than he had credited her for –brilliant in fact– tossing ideas back and forth over where Walsh may be hiding, or when he might try to make another play. He would offer feedback between flirtations that repeatedly slipped out in conversation. Her smiles that cracked in occasional response were tucked away with the sounds of her laughter. By the end of the first hour, Killian wasn't sure if it was him, or his wolf that was chasing Miss Swan.

By the end of the second hour, Emma had curled and tucked into that corner again as exhaustion finally found its way to her, and he found himself in kitchen to make her tea after she had reached for a third glass of rum.

_"_ _First time a guy tried to_ _stop_ _me from getting drunk."_

_"_ _And you never forget your first."_

_"_ _Just because I can't see you from here, doesn't mean I don't know you're grinning like an idiot at your own joke."_

_"Aye, perhaps I am. Regardless,_ _you still have nightmares. Tea might not stop them, but alcohol can certainly make them worse. I'd sooner avoid that responsibility and guilt, as you would the screaming and the resulting coddling from a certain Alpha."_

She didn't drink much from it, rather seemed content enough to absorb the warmth from the cup into her hands. She began drifting away, blinking slower, delayed and slurred answers; she looked impossibly small on his couch. Killian pulled a dirty trick when he lowered the tone of his voice, and changed the cadence of his words. It wasn't fair of him, he knew that. But Emma Swan was falling asleep, and his instincts were screaming that she wasn't the type to let down her guard around just anyone. He knew treasure when he saw it, and he wasn't about to let it go when it was so freely offered. So he spoke nonsense, helping her slip farther and farther away, until soft snores escaped rather than words. It pleased his wolf to have her trust, but Killian was the one left to figure out what to do with the sleeping woman. Killian managed to restrain his hands from moving the hair from her face only by busying himself with cleaning up the papers strewn all over. And then again with the rum glasses they had used. Tidying up anything to stall waking her. He could simply pick her up and transfer her to his bed, let her sleep the night away there. But the berating he would receive in the morning from all sides wasn't appealing, tempting as the general idea was. He would have to relinquish his treasure; his wolf only quieted by the fact that something found can always be found again. He knelt on one knee beside her, wresting the half-full cup from her grip (surprisingly still tight in her slumber), murmuring her name to bring her back to him. It took a good couple minutes of her shifting and mumbled arguments to get her to even crack an eye.

"If I didn't know any better Miss Swan, I'd assume you were intending on spending the night here."

She closed her eyes again, burrowing deeper into the corner. "And? This couch is comfortable. And you leave the window open."

"Aye, but I'm sure a bed would be better." Killian ignored the immediate images he had conjured in his own mind, praying she was too tired to see them too.

"Comfy here."

"Bloody stubborn woman, you are."

Emma opened an eye again, critical in its perusal of him despite her obvious fatigue. "A woman wants to stay in your home overnight, and you're _complaining_?"

"Darling, anytime you haven't been drinking and want to see that through, you let me know. But tonight, I'm escorting you safely back to Ruby's."

She scoffed. "You really play up the gentleman bit don't you?"

"Only because I haven't had the proper opportunity to show you how much of a scoundrel I am. Now are you walking out of here, or shall I carry you?"

"You wouldn't." Both eyes opened, wide in disbelief.

"Personal rule, my Swan: never issue a challenge you don't desire for me to see through."

"I didn-"

He didn't let her finish, scooping her up with an arm under her knees and the other behind her back; her sunshine etching his skin where her arms gripped his neck and shoulders. He was upright before another argument fell from her lips, though the sudden movement caused a panicked squeak of some sort instead. It pleased the more primal side of him, as did the anticipation prickling its way through her.

"Ok, you made your point. Put me down."

"I said I'd see you safely home Swan. What safer way than to carry you there, so as to not even chance a sprain?" He moved and took them out his front door, not bothering to lock it up, or even shut it. It wasn't something he normally bothered with anyway.

Stubborn she was, and continued to argue even as he took them down the hall. "But I'm heavy."

"As heavy as three feathers are to a bird."

"Killian!"

Halting at the stairs that led down to Ruby's floor, he mocked her tone, "Emma!" He sounded childish, he was acting childish. It was her fault.

"You don't have to keep carrying me."

"And leave your challenge unsatisfied?"

"I didn't cha-"

Killian bounced her in his arms, ignoring that her own tightened around his neck in response. Arching a brow when she lifted her chin to him.

Her eyes narrowed on him. "Fine, since your ego seems to need validation, you can carry me all the way to Ruby's bed."

Again, thoughts that followed in his mind weren't anything to ever be repeated publicly. (As they ranged from dropping her soundly on her bottom, to pinning her to the nearest wall.) Instead, he locked eyes with her, taking each step down without looking away. He would grip her a little tighter each time he felt a twinge of fear run through her, insisting through his fingers that she keep the trust in him she had earlier. Three flights of her green eyes. Three flights of feeling her apprehension slip away until she was as relaxed in his arms as she was on his couch. Skin of her cheek touching the skin of his shoulder, watching him as much as he was watching her. Her gaze broke first when he set her down at the locked door. (The urge to break this door for the offense it caused him, was a tangible idea he had to put somewhere else.)

Her playful tone returned, "Funny, this doesn't look like Ruby's bed."

(An idea that didn't like being put away apparently.)

"Would you have me break down her door as well? Carry you over the splintered pieces and threshold, and lay you down to bed Swan? One word and I'll comply." He could smell her arousal, snapping his wolf to attention once more. Among other things.

"I don't think Ruby would appreciate a broken door or walking in on her bed being used like that."

It was a plain rejection. On Ruby's behalf.

He took a half step closer. "That's a matter of venue, Swan." He reached his hand out to her waist, listened as she held her breath. Another half step closer. Hand slinking around and just a little lower, snatching her phone from her back pocket.

"Hey!"

He tapped his number in, letting it ring to voice-mail. "Now you can reach me for reasons as noble, or as clandestine, as you please."

Emma huffed as she yanked her phone from his hand. "You should hold your breath till I call."

He tsked. "I thought we just went over issuing challenges Swan." He tilted his head down, watching her from beneath his brow. "Unless you truly desire to see how long I could perform such an act."

Her arousal spiked again, synced with her irritation. He forcefully chose to focus on the irritation; it would be easier to walk away from.

Her eyes rolled as she spun to unlock the door. "Goodnight Killian."

"Goodnight Miss Swan."

Killian waited till he heard the click of the lock before he took his phone out and sent a text to a very different number.

_:Status on Neal._

_**:Emma told you the whole story?** _

_:I would assume so. Let her serve time the first time, left her at a bar with a bill of repair and an open tab the second._

_**:That's not everything, but that's where it ended for her.** _

_:Not asking for more details other than what happened after he ran._

_**:Serving time.** _

_:For how long?_

_**:Till he can successfully pass a psych exam. Poor lad thinks monsters are after him.** _

_:He's serving time in a mental institution?_

_**:Deemed unfit to stand trial when he shot someone and screamed about yellow eyes.** _

_:This sounds like a story over a drink Humbert._

_**:Perhaps. Stick close by till Ruby finishes closing. Emma tends to have a hard time staying asleep when she speaks of Neal.** _

During their visit, Emma reminded him of her recent trauma to excuse her flight response. But Killian was starting to wonder if his assessment that she was always geared for the worst to happen possibly wasn't too far from the truth. These new pieces of her cast the pieces of trust she had given in a new light. It would be monumental if she was giving him this with conscious effort, but if she was doing it without –and Killian suspected she was– then it was by instinct she was relying on him, and that held a heavier weight. All of which only left Killian confused as to how to continue his role in her life, however temporary it might be.

A pair of voices yelled at him from beyond the grave to not cock this up.

A honeyed voice from his present told him that a gullible girl only earns her hardships.

Killian couldn't find an argument for either side.

* * *

The following few days served up nothing new on Walsh. Graham was still away attending pack business, and Killian was bored. He had all sorts of alerts set up if Walsh popped up on the grid again, which made keeping a closer eye on Swan easier. (Whether she knew of his watchfulness or not was not a problem he troubled with.) But boredom had arrived anyway in this downtime. It made Swan's phone number a most tempting button, and he so loved pushing buttons. He didn't call; she would only hang up on him. If not right away, then later as the conversation ran on. So he resorted to the next best thing and sent her an endless stream of random photographs captioned with absurd phrases and comments. She ignored the first dozen or so, but when he broke into the funny cat and dog images, Killian finally got a response to his efforts.

_**:At least you aren't sending me pics of your body parts.** _

_:Easily remedied my Swan._

_**:Wasn't a request and I'm not your Swan.** _

He laughed when the idea struck him. Really, it was too easy to goad Emma. Killian removed the necessary clothing and snapped a picture of the appendage.

_:Here Swan. A picture of my big-_

_**:Don't you dare!** _

He sent the photo along.

_:-toe._

_**:What are you? Twelve?** _

He had planned on letting the banter end there for a while, to give himself time to find something new to catch her attention with, and to avoid pushing his luck with someone like Emma. She would be the person to have contacts that could shut off his phone for a few days. But she continued the conversation, and not in the direction he ever thought she'd go.

_**:Are you busy tonight?** _

_:Are you asking me out on a date Miss Swan?_

_**:Of sorts. Yes or no?** _

_:To which? Am I busy or if you can court me?_

_**:If you're going to be difficult about this…** _

_:No, I have no concrete plans in the foreseeable future._

_**:Good. I'll be at your door at 8. Dress nice.** _

_:Just what you devised for us tonight?_

_**:I'll tell you when I get there.** _

Eight o'clock was hours away. Cleaning up for a night out was routine enough that Killian could clock the minutes and not be late. He could even manage a nap between now and then. And though she said it wasn't a date exactly –hell, she was planning to pick _him_ up– a night out was a night out. It might be considered archaic, but he had a procedure to follow. He wasn't going to let some sodding semantics get in the way of doing this in proper fashion. He popped off a quick message to Ruby that he was going to be out of the building for a couple hours running errands.

And as an added bonus: Graham wasn't even around to push his rights as eldest family member.

* * *

At 7:48pm, Killian knocked on the still offensive door. (It was closed after all.) It was simple to assume that Emma would be annoyed with his early arrival, but these were habits ingrained in him for centuries now. A man showed the woman the courtesy of escorting her directly from her front door, to both provide protection from low-based humans and to show his eagerness for her company. Not as commonplace as it used to be, when the low-based humans polluted it to further push down a woman's will. Nor was it in him to show up empty handed; a token of appreciation for the time she would grant him, a thing to bring out a smile. Swan didn't strike him as one to go for a full bouquet of flowers, but a single bloom might be enough to coax that dimple on her chin out of hiding. Date or not, there was a rhythm to this that he couldn't ignore, nor would he start to.

The offensive door opened, revealing Swan wearing something mildly resembling that Marilyn Monroe number, though this one was done in a deep red. Looking of blood, and drawing all of his out of his head. He thanked the Gods for swaying him to his dark wash jeans this night; slacks would have made his lack of blood control extremely obvious to everyone in New York.

"I- You are stunning Swan." He begged his body to return just a little more blood to the brain so he might be able to function through the night.

She didn't yield entrance to the apartment yet, looking confused through a slight blush staining her cheeks. "Thank you. I thought I was coming to get you?"

"This is a case of where patience isn't a virtue."

"What?"

Killian couldn't clarify his meaning without causing further embarrassment to himself, and he fought his current simple mind for another track of thought. His thumb brushed the stem of the flower held behind his back, allowing him an action to perform rather than words to speak by bringing it forward for her assessment. It was stereotypical rose, though not the red the shopkeeper had tried talking him into. Red roses held too many overtones that would only work against him with Emma. (Regardless of how nicely it would have matched this evening's attire.) His rose of choice was white, bearing pink streaks that looked painted on. He was aware of flower colors coming with meanings –proof in the shopkeeper's endless ramblings when Killian was perusing the stock– but all he managed to keep in his mind was the flower he held in his hand, and the freefall of emotions cascading over Emma's face.

"This isn't a date Jones." Her voice was wary and soft, and she wasn't reaching for the flower. But he caught her fingers flexing into the material of her dress, signal enough for Killian that he had chosen properly.

"Hate to argue on our first date love, but you did in fact say it was."

"I said it was a date of _sorts_."

"Whatever sort you intended, it's still a date." He edged just a little closer, hoping she'd chance a look in his eyes. "I don't know what brand of men you've dated in the past Emma, but there are things that should never be overlooked. If you are allowing me to escort you through the town, under any pretense, then the very least I could do is give you a flower in return."

Her hand reached out while her fingers ghosted over the petals. A wave of sadness drifting his way, even though her body language was stubbornly set, as if bracing for something to come for her. "It's only a mock date, nothing special."

"A mock date?"

"Walsh is possessive right? And we're assuming he's watching me to some degree, and taunting you with it. So I figured we might draw him out if he saw you moving in on what he sees as his territory. If he snaps, he makes a mistake."

"I see." Killian closed his free hand slowly over her wrist, holding it still as he placed the long stem to her fingertips. "Then all the more reason to make this as believable as possible. If it makes it easier, assume he's watching now, and we already have to be in character."

Emma's slender fingers closed around the flower, bringing the petals up to her nose to finally take in the sweet smell. A tentative smile flashed for only a second, but Killian took victories where he could.

"I don't usually go for roses, but thank you." She tapped the rose against her chin a couple times before darting off to the kitchen; he heard her rustle through the trash bin before the water ran at the sink. She returned a moment later with his token sitting solitary in a beer bottle. Unconventional, but this was Swan, anything else and he'd assume something was wrong. Emma placed it dead center on the dining table, a place of honor he hadn't been expecting.

Killian scratched the back of his neck, wondering how he was supposed to explain that to Ruby later. "Shall we be off then love?"

Emma moved around the apartment gathering the last of her things to shove inside a ridiculously small purse before grabbing a sparkly black shawl to combat the lingering cold in the air. Her hand curved around his offered arm as she gifted him with a smile that could melt the butter off of snow. At this point, Killian didn't give a damn if it was his wolf or himself that was chasing her.

* * *

The "date" consisted of hopping the places Walsh had been noted lurking when he first arrived in New York City. They first went to a swanky bar for a drink and an appetizer. Emma was properly coy and flirty, and Killian understood why she had stood out to Walsh. The restaurant that followed wasn't as pretentious though still classy. Emma gave him more of her flirty banter, and more engaging conversation that he had had in years. Killian found himself wondering if that Neal person wasn't actually insane for running away from her. Not to say she wasn't a little unsettling for Killian as he was usually the charming one in this setting; winning the bodies and minds of women with his stories –both real and exaggerated. Emma had turned his entire method on its head and he was left to sit and listen to her regale him of people running from her and some of the more ridiculous ways others would try to coax their way out of capture. His wolf jumped towards every clanging dish and new smell that passed by; Killian only managing to stay focused with her voice as a tether, allowing the visuals of Emma's animated face that to pause his wolf enough between outbursts of restaurant noise. Very counterproductive as Emma was also the very reason his wolf was restless, enticing as she was seated across from him. It was with a concentrated effort that he ate his food at what he hoped was a normal pace, knowing the spread before him wouldn't be enough to satisfy his hunger. He wasn't close to full by the time the dessert cart was wheeled around, but he wasn't about to overwhelm Emma with the size of his true appetite. Their night was almost over, and he had food in his fridge anyway. Walsh either hadn't been watching them through the evening, or was too cowardly to show as yet. Killian still had to get Emma home, but for once he was thankful for the mongrel's need to disappear for a few days at a time.

"Killian?" Her eyes were big and concerned and dammit she had been talking to him while he was lost thinking about the wankers that seemed hell bent on breaking her.

"I'm sorry darling, I got lost in thought. What was it you said?"

Her eyes searched his face, "I asked you if you were ready to go..."

"Of course, just let me-" He started to lift his arm to summon a waiter of some variety.

"Oh, it's fine. I already paid."

"I'm sorry; I must still be wandering in my own head. What was that you said?"

"I already paid for dinner. It's only fair; I'm the one that asked you out after all."

He said nothing, having no idea how to translate what was in his head into modern terms. Only rose from his chair and rounded the table to offer his hand to Emma so she could do the same. He was still silent when he retrieved their coats, and waited for the valet to bring around his car. He could feel Emma's increasing tension, wary over his silence. He hated that she went to those emotions first, not that he expected blind faith so quickly, but he disliked being the cause of them. The only small blessing was that it helped him remain quiet longer, needing to speak his mind clearly and avoid as many assumptions she could devise. He waited till she was safely seated in the passenger side before he got behind the wheel, falling back on old mannerisms to leave his brain more room to sort his thoughts properly. She waited till he had pulled out into traffic before she spoke again, but he held up a finger, asking for her silence a little longer before she had managed to use three syllables. Her apprehension melted away into irritation. Thankfully Killian found a parking garage fairly quickly as the words in his head began to make sense of his untimely reaction. By the time he found a spot, Emma had boiled into a mild fury.

_Good. Anger is better than fear._ "Emma..."

"First thing's first: I don't give a rat's ass how old you are and what the rules were when you were human. I don't give a flying fuck if you don't think women paying for the date is proper. And I might have been more understanding of those outdated misogynistic views, if you hadn't just given me the silent treatment for twenty minutes so you could pout."

In her rage, she was a feast to his senses. Her heart was thudding in her chest, echoing as loud as her voice in his ears. The rush of adrenaline had that gunpowder burn hotter under the sunshine she had been emitting all night. Her eyes were flashing and her skin flushed from the increased blood flow. She was staring him down, valiantly trying to cow him. Either forgetting what he was, or simply stopped caring. He was impressed. Hell he felt lust sear his insides for the woman, but Killian was still a werewolf and his wolf was rising up to meet her with its own eyes.

She didn't flinch, in fact tilted her head up a notch in further defiance. "Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin."

He managed to hold down his immediate laughter, but the grin couldn't be helped. He always appreciated a woman with gumption. "So now I'm the big bad wolf?"

"Probably. I'm not an easy catch that's giggling like an idiot over your dimples Killian. We're out trying to bait the bad guy. It was my idea. I should be fronting the bill."

He felt his eyebrow reach high. "Oh? So you've been eying my features then Swan?"

Emma leveled a deadpan look to him.

"I understand what you're saying Swan, I do. And I admit that my initial explanation would have consisted the very points you spoke against. I do come from a time where the man was responsible for the funds. And yes, I'm rather used to simply continuing with those behaviors. I'll even admit that the time I spent trying to sort out what I wanted to say to you took far longer than it should have. I apologize for making you think I was sulking over a bruised ego and taking it out on you."

Her expression didn't change. "Go on."

"Aside from the discounted habits of mine, there were a few other things. One: false date or not, we are trying to convey a legitimacy to it. It's safe to assume that Walsh has gathered some intel on me since he sought me out. I never let the woman pay, and I certainly wouldn't let you if I were staking a claim on you. In doing so, you threw me out of my normal habits and it possibly looked wrong to him –if he was watching. Two: I have more money than you do. I've had centuries to collect. You haven't worked in two weeks, and gods know when you might be able to return to it."

"And the last one?"

He feigned innocence. "Last what?"

"Really? You're going to pull that now?" Her arm crossed her chest in further defiance, and he resisted the urge to watch the action squeeze her breasts together.

"I think I'll save this last reason for bartering later, you being so eager for it."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Let's move on to the next place if you're going to be weird."

"You had more locations in mind love?"

Emma nodded. "A club he's been to quite a few times. He was seen there the same night he found me at that bar. Worth a look."

Killian's face scrunched up like someone gave him a salted lemon to suck on. "I hate to be the party pooper darling, but wolves don't do well in those places. I can tolerate them for a while, but not long enough to serve our purposes. Too many smells and loud sounds. It's disorientating and aggravating. The restaurant was pushing it already."

"Then why would Walsh keep going to them?"

"Likely because he wouldn't run into another wolf in those places. It would make him feel superior to everyone else there."

"Could you do an hour maybe? It would be just enough time to look for him, or for him to spot us."

There was a hopeful look to her face and he felt the resolve to take her home ebb from his grasp. "Let's say he _is_ there. He sees you with me or any other male, there's no telling how he might react. Clubs are crowded with people tighter than the other places we've been; I wouldn't be able to protect you properly and might even lose sight of you if it's cluttered enough."

"An hour and I'll forget the temper tantrum you just threw…"

_Bugger._

"Fine. But only to place me back in your good graces. I can't have you running off and complaining to Humbert." He placed the address into the GPS and maneuvered the vehicle back onto the main street.

"Graham? No I wouldn't tattle to him."

"You wouldn't?"

"Nah." She gave him a smile that reminded him of a wolf fresh from a hunt. "I'd tell Granny."

"I'd rather bathe in silver Swan."

She perked up visibly, "Silver really works?"

"Knowing you would sacrifice me to Granny over a dinner bill? I'm not confirming a sodding thing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the beginning of this chapter backed up to give Killian's PoV.


	11. ...and Phone Calls

**Chapter 10:**

**...and Phone Calls**

* * *

The club in question was the kind where one needed to actually dance, rather than use various gyrating movements closely resembling some bizarre orgy. But like all clubs, this one was packed with bodies doused in false scents and natural body odors. Liquor, fried foods, and vomit tainted the air, but least this place kept its lavatories clean; he could barely smell them or the artificially sweet cherry blossom air freshener. (Which always smelled more metallic than fruity.) The line out front had promised at least the hour Emma had bargained for, so he bypassed the standing crowd and headed for the door directly; the bouncer giving them both a once over before he moved the rope and let them though. Emma accused Killian of a wolf superpower to influence the man, to which Killian only accepted fault so she wouldn't pay attention to the bouncer's visible arousal and perusal of her long legs. Killian didn't see a point in encouraging a situation that was sure to cause a violent moment for someone. (He would have made easy money on Emma breaking that arousal in three pieces; smiling as she did so.)

Inside, they wrangled one of those odd, tall tables meant for people to have a place for their drinks and nowhere to sit while darting out on the dance floor; a realm Emma quickly deserted him for. She had asked him certainly, but he waved it off claiming to not be much of a dancer and not a fan of so many people so close to his person. A half-truth, and one he hoped she wouldn't see through. He thought it had been a wise choice to avoid the tightly packed floor in lieu of keeping an eye out for the psychotic wolf, to keep himself from being pressed up against her and adding a complication to this case he wasn't ready for. However, Killian now had a new problem. He was left to watch her dance. Even with his senses dulled with overstimulation, he could feel her excitement as a wave of warmth rolled out with every twirl of her skirt. She wasn't ever wanting for a partner, a male always willing to move her around the floor. He couldn't blame them with the way she swung her hips in time with the music or the way she glided through the spins, living entirely up to her surname. Killian wondered if he chanted "Not mine" often enough in his head, would the urge to break every finger that touched her go away.

Emma was on her fifth dancing partner ( _Fifty fingers that won't ever play the piano again_ ), and well into the hour he had promised when her purse played a pop song of some sort. Killian wasn't the sort of man that answered a woman's phone, nor has he ever dared to enter a woman's purse –even when invited. But his hand was reaching for both all the same and he told himself it was due to the strange circumstances they were in. Watching out for her and all that, not at all picturing another ten fingers that he wanted to shatter. The caller ID was a gray face with an unsaved number; he didn't take Swan for the type to hand out her number to just anyone, so he assumed it wasn't one of the prats she had just been dancing with. He let it ring to her voicemail on the chance it was something important that she'd need later rather than his passed along message. But when it rang again, a warning bell started to sound somewhere in his hindbrain. He hadn't lived so long ignoring such sensations, so he breeched her privacy and answered.

"Swan's phone, how may I be of assistance?" He was chancing her ire again by answering her phone, so he pushed forward his manners in spite of those ringing bells in his head.

"Beautiful isn't she?"

Killian felt hot and cold all at once. "Singe. Good of you to phone, where are you mate? We should get together for a drink." Killian brought the phone down and pressed the appropriate buttons for a screen capture, sending off the image to his own device.

"I was watching her for a while before I made her run, longer than that one night. It was her dancing that finally caught my interest. Grace and balance in a human not trained for it, how could I pass that up? Especially when it comes so prettily wrapped."

"Is that why you tried to slice her open? And here I thought it was because you're a sick fuck." Using his own phone, Killian ran a quick search on the number, disgusted to find it a pre-paid phone number, and not something he could trace from here.

Walsh laughed, or what Killian was assuming was laughter. "She's a siren. A mermaid calling us to our deaths. I know you're drawn to her as much as I am."

"Perhaps, but I don't fancy the idea of breaking her or eating her alive."

"I don't want to break her! Only teach her… improve her."

"Is that what you've been doing? Teaching and improving girls?"

Walsh ignored him, "She is already learning. She chose that dress for me. To remind me of our first run together. Red to remind me of how sweet her blood smelled. A halter top dress to show off the mark I left for her, my mark, letting all those lesser men know she's mine."

Killian suppressed the growling he felt rumble low inside. "If she's yours, why aren't you coming forward to claim her?"

"Some of the lessons can be hard to learn. And since you delayed me in the park and caused her to lose far too much of that sweet blood, I thought it best that she heal before I brought her home."

"Not your best plan. While you've cowered in whatever dark corner you hide in, Swan's been falling for my charms. We've already spent time in bed together, but you knew that didn't you? She was in my place again last night; we even parked in a dark garage for a time before arriving here, got a bit loud in fact. I daresay this night will end with her once again in my arms and my name on her lips."

"Your face buys you plenty, but she'll forget you as soon as I take her."

Killian's wolf perked in eagerness to the words. "By all means Singe, come forward and challenge me for her." Emma's laughter rung out from the dance floor, pulling Killian's focus. The hair on his neck and arms standing to attention; her laughter ringing out from her phone with a few seconds delay.

"Seems I'll have to wait in line for that. But I'm good at waiting." The line died.

Killian stored her phone away in her purse, gathering it and her shawl as he stormed the floor. Her current partner glanced Killian's way, promptly excusing himself from Emma's presence. He wasn't out to frighten her (though causing that male to run was a bit satisfying) and he wasn't sure if telling her about this development would set off reaction he couldn't control. Their hour was just about up; he could let her stay and have her fun, or he could drag her out of here and do exactly as Graham would and hide her away so Singe would never touch her again. He could do all sorts of things; he had the strength of will and wolf to push her to see things his way. All the same, he reached for her hand, spun her into his hold while wrapping her shawl around her shoulders; a move that looked much better executed than he had played out in his head.

"Hey! What the hell–"

He bent his head so his lips brushed the shell of her ear, "Shhh Swan. Just listen and smile like I said something incredibly suggestive and lewd to you." He braced for her to struggle against him, or send some scathing words his way, a purposely-missed step on his toes or instep even. But feeling her body mold further into him and her head cant against his was almost enough to have him wonder if he grabbed the right woman. "That's it… just keep dancing no matter what I tell you, yes?"

She hummed and glided her hand over his shoulders to rest at the base of his skull. Tapping once with her index finger.

"Walsh called your phone. My apologies for answering it, but he called more than once before I picked up the line. He's here and he's watching us."

Another single tap.

"Too many people here to make a play for him, so I'm getting you home before he loses his restraint watching you dance with all these other men."

Two taps. _This? This she wants to argue?_

"I could only trace the number as far as it being a pre-paid cell. Back home, I have programs that would allow us to run it, might find out where and when he purchased it."

Two taps. _Bugger all._

"Swan. I can't protect you well enough here. Let me get you home."

She leaned away from him, stubborn intent blazing from her falsely smiling face. She was going to be angry at him either way it seemed, he just wanted to avoid throwing his weight around and using his wolf to force her into doing the right thing.

She came back in, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. Her whispers were low even for his hearing, "Your eyes Killian, they're white again."

"Let me take you home. Yell at me there."

She nodded and he moved her so he could walk her out of there without having to sacrifice too much contact. If he was touching her, she was safe. If she was safe, the wolf inside wasn't trying to eat people. Which, for Killian, was the mark of a good night.

* * *

The drive home was silent. The first few minutes, Killian assumed Emma was simply angry with him again. It was understandable; she had wanted Walsh drawn out, and Killian made her walk away when it finally happened. Inside his head, Killian's wolf was screaming for attention, demanding he listen, but he didn't understand the information it was trying to give him, which only served to agitate them both. He flexed his fingers over the stick shift again, not sure how many times he had already done so, both willing his foot some form of restraint and the lights to remain green. The soft skin of Emma's palm slid over his, not quite linking fingers as they both held onto the shift. Killian angled his thumb upwards and stroked along the outside of her pinkie finger. His wolf settled, still at an unease, but settled.

They were still quiet during walk from the car and up the quick flight to Ruby's. Her hand curled around his arm and she rested her head on his shoulder; Killian slowed and matched her steps so she wouldn't stumble.

He followed through the apartment door when Emma opened it. She didn't stop him, only moved on to the kitchen, pulling out simple drinking glasses and filling them with water. Killian followed her to the table where his rose proudly stood and took his seat, reciting Walsh's phone call without being prompted.

Emma stayed quiet a moment longer, taking a sip of her water. "That was the reaction we wanted, why pull out? Why not taunt him to somewhere with less of a body count?"

"It was the words he used. Something about them, or maybe the way he said them, it's bothering me. All of me. I don't know what just yet, but I want to figure it out before we make a move for him again."

"I see."

Killian scoffed. "Do you then?"

"Some. You have a hunch, a gut feeling, and you don't know which direction it's leading you yet. I get that feeling sometimes and it makes me feel like I'm on the spin setting inside a washing machine. Makes me 'prickly' if you ask Granny or a few of my co-workers. I can only guess what it does to you." He stared at her, wondering how it was so simple for her when he felt like he was vibrating in his chair. His face had to have been one of disbelief because she continued with a shrug. "I do the same work remember? Mine's just less violent."

Killian chortled. "Too right lass. That violent part has me in a fix as well. Too many humans about, and he's working that angle. He knows I can't touch him if I can't contain the visibility."

"We'd have to go upstate or out of state for that to happen. Street cameras, security footage, even a simple ATM have eyes and ears now."

He arched a brow at her, "Would you be willing? I have a safe house in Maine. Out in the woods, but not so clustered with trees that either of us couldn't see him coming. You'd be safe."

Her face twisted into a grimace. "I don't want to have that conversation with either Ruby or Graham."

"Don't have to, we could be gone tonight if you wished. Send them a text later."

She didn't respond, only arched her brow at him in a matching expression.

"I know, I know Swan. Fine, sleep on it then. If you decide to run off with me," He wiggled his brows at her stern ones, enjoying the eye roll she used around him constantly. "Then I'll make some calls in the morning and arrange our transport." Killian felt his wolf push him again; demanding monster that it was, and towards her this time. "Swan? Are you alright?"

"Hmm? Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"In the car, you reached for my hand. While my ego is content to think that you relented to your baser desires to touch me, I'm left to wonder the actual reasons."

Emma snorted. "Between you, your wolf, and your ego, it's a wonder there's any room in the state for anyone else."

He laughed with her. "Be that as it may, truly, are you alright?"

"It was for you." She said into her glass.

"Come again?"

"Before I came to your room a couple nights ago, I was talking with Ruby and she kept getting more anxious. Nervous energy all over the place. I held her hand then and it seemed to settle her down. In the club tonight, your eyes changed. And I've never seen a jaw flex that rapidly or that often before that car ride. So I tried the same trick."

She was speaking as if it had meant nothing. He supposed it was just as well. The full reality of what she was doing had yet to dawn on her, and the longer Killian was able to stave it off, the better. He knew too well how good she was at running. The literal kind, the kind normal sane people did when faced with the things that go bump in the night.

"And when we got here? Leaning on me was the same intention?"

She smiled. "Yeah, though being tired helped that one. You have a comfy shoulder Killian."

"It's yours anytime you wish it Emma."

She blinked and muttered, "Right." Promptly hiding behind the water glass, finishing it off.

Rising and taking it to the sink, Killian understood her signal to end the evening. He made way to the front door, knowing she would follow to lock it behind him. But she hesitated, holding the door open, fidgeting with the knob. As unsure on how to end the night as he was. Killian remained quiet, knowing that if he said a word before she did, whatever she planned on saying wouldn't leave that pretty head of hers.

"I guess I should thank you. Outside the purpose for the date, I actually had a good time. Better than most of my real dates, even though you lied to me."

His jaw dropped a fraction, shock all over his features. "I did no such thing!"

"Oh yes you did." A teasing smile edged her lips, though he had no clue as to why.

"And just what was my falsification?"

"You said you couldn't dance." Her smile broke through, and he was struck dumb.

His ego vainly tried to recover. "That was for your benefit Swan. If I had danced with you from the beginning, you wouldn't have wanted to dance with anyone else." It was a stretch, but a plausible one.

"Still a lie."

"Fine. Then what would you have me do for penance Swan?"

"Give me the third reason."

_Oh she's good._

"The dinner bill again? You couldn't let me hold onto that one for more than a day?"

"How good do you think Granny's hearing is?"

"You fight dirty Swan." But she only beamed that smile of hers at him, and damn if he didn't feel his wolf roll over like a puppy getting a belly rub. He heaved a sigh and blurted out the truth. "Because you're mine." The smile dropped and panic wrote itself on her body. "My responsibility. Since that night at the park when I saved you, but it hasn't been an issue until recently. I've also been made to swear your life is paramount by three people on three separate occasions. You are my responsibility until this is over with. _Mine._ I take care of what's mine, even for something as simple as a dinner bill. Think me archaic all you like, it's a fair opinion. But it is as I said."

He ducked his head, unable to look at her. She could take this any number of ways, and the majority of them didn't work out in his favor. He had been hoping to avoid this altogether, for an indefinite amount of time. But gentle fingers shifted the hair off his forehead and Killian forced himself not to lean into it.

"That's why holding your hand calmed you down? Like with Ruby?"

_Partially._ "Yes."

"And you thought I would freak out."

_I thought you would run like a rabbit after shooting me a few times._ "Yes."

"You haven't had many things that were yours, have you?"

_How did she figure_ that _one out?_ "No."

Emma tightened her mouth, and dragged him back inside; leaving the door open. "Wait here."

She disappeared into the bedroom. Killian could hear the whispers exchanged with Ruby. (Who had been mostly asleep while he was there, Killian knew he'd get an earful later.) There was a ruffling of clothes and a few giggles that could only have been his Rubles making snide comments. Emma reemerged in a thermal top and those black stretchy pants he assumed were meant to be used for yoga. Her hair was pulled into a low pony, and she carried a small travel case containing heaven knows what.

She made a quick gesture to the still open door, "Let's go."

"Go where darling?"

"Your place."

He choked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Walsh got to you. Be as macho as you like, but your shoulders haven't relaxed since the dance floor. So let's go."

"Swan, I appreciate the gesture–"

"Good. Then let's go."

"Emma, it wouldn't be appropriate."

She grabbed his hand and linked their fingers, holding them up in front of him. "I understand this more than you think. Something you're trying to keep safe keeps getting threatened, and you aren't sure if you can stop the real threat when it comes. And unless you're holding onto it as tight as you can, there's every chance it'll be gone before you can get back to it. You won't sleep unless I'm nearby. Tell me I'm wrong."

Killian swallowed. He heard Ruby's muffled laughter from the bedroom. It had been a long times since he felt like _he_ was the rabbit. "Right or wrong, you don't have to worry about me."

"You want to keep me safe?"

"Yes."

"Then you need to be able to sleep. Both Ruby and I think that's not happening unless I'm near you somehow. Her bed isn't big enough for the three of us and she said you hate her couch."

"Swan–"

"If it was Ruby being threatened, I wouldn't be able to leave her side without constant video surveillance available to me. I understand the concept Killian. Now, I'm tired and my feet hurt from those damn heels. Time for sleep."

She hadn't let go of his hand the entire time, tightening her grip every time he tried to argue or pull away. And yet he still hesitated.

A voice boomed from behind the bedroom door. "For the love of God Killian, just take her home and do what she says. I have an early shift tomorrow and you're both keeping me awake. YOU HAVE _MY_ PERMISSION."

Emma's eyebrows went up. "Any other excuses you got?"

"Fine. But when Humbert comes for my death, I'm pointing right at you two."

* * *

Killian just about dragged her back to his place. Not in any eagerness for the fun and pleasure that he had been thinking about for far too long now, but for the sheer need to get the night over with. She was right; of course she had been right. He would sleep better knowing she was safe and nearby for him to protect. But she would be in _his_ place. In _his_ bed. And he wouldn't be, at least he hoped he wouldn't be; Killian had every intention of crashing on the very couch she attempted to sleep on a few days prior.

She held fast to his hand and waited while he locked the door; the bolt stiff from lack of use.

She pulled him to his bedroom, letting go only to shove him slightly in the direction of his closet. She ordered him to change into whatever he normally slept in and he bit his tongue against telling her what he did slept in (or lack thereof), but found some sweat pants that would work for the night.

She eyed his bare chest when he came out, causing his wolf to preen at the attention. "Won't you get cold?"

"Wolves run hot Swan. I'll be just fine."

She shrugged, placing her travel case on the nightstand next to his bed. He assumed she had her basic toiletries inside, but knowing even as little as he did about Swan, there was likely a gun in there as well. He stood lamely as she grabbed a pillow from the bed and headed back to the living room, following after she didn't immediately return; she was setting up the couch for him with experienced movements. He wondered how many couches she had to sleep on as a child, and where she had found the throw blanket she was shaking out.

She spoke without looking to him, "I don't suppose you'd let me have the couch right?"

"Not for all the money or rum in the world Emma."

She huffed out a laugh. "Right." She finished her fussing over his couch, wandering over to his side. "I guess that leaves one last thing to do before I turn in."

"Oh? What ritual have you missed?" He turned to face her, only finding her already mirroring his stance mere inches from where he stood.

He had no warning. No time to draw breath. It didn't stop her lips from touching his. By all respects, the kiss was modest and chaste, but it stopped his heart all the same. His hand hovered above her shoulder, impatient to be in her hair when she pulled away, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering.

She stepped back on her heel, giving their bodies more room between them. "A goodnight kiss Killian. You didn't give me one when our date was over."

His lips still tingled. "I thought you said it wasn't a real date?"

She went to the bedroom door. "I thought you said it was?"

Emma closed the door before he could think of anything else to say.

His tongue darted out licking the taste she had left behind.

_Bloody Hell._

* * *

It was the whimpering that woke him, but it was the sounds of thrashing that had him almost tearing his own bedroom door off its hinges. Emma was still in his bed, she was still safe. All except for the nightmare terrorizing her. He didn't think when he laid down flush behind her, pulling her back to his front. And only thought of making her still again as he threw a leg over her knees, chanting her name over and over as he wrapped his arms around her, containing the open swings she flailed through the air.

"Emma love. Come on darling wake up."

Killian didn't get a verbal response, but felt some of the fight leave her as tension seeped its way in.

"That's it, good lass. It's not real, whatever it is." He ran a hand up and down an arm. "You're in my room, my bed. I have you, you're safe."

"Killian?"

"Yes love. It's Killian. Remember you wanted to help me sleep by staying at my place?"

Her body went lax, taking as deep a breath as she could to calm down. "Yeah... yeah."

"Bloody shoddy job you're doing of it. Haven't even been out for two hours yet."

She laughed and he rubbed her arm again before shyly mumbling, "Sorry I woke you."

"Oh I don't know sweetheart, I seem to have gotten a consolation prize from this."

She looked over her shoulder. "And that would be?"

"I'm laying down in my own bed for a bit. Sofa is absolute rubbish." She laughed again, and he knew she'd be all right. He was content to relax with her a bit more, only moving his arm to stroke hers, content right until she relaxed fully into the spooned positions they were in with a slight wiggle. "I should get back to that abomination of a couch. And shop for a new one online until I fall asleep again."

Her hand grabbed his before he could make his body move away. "You could stay here. Bed is big enough."

Killian groaned, and he could only pray he sounded put out rather than turned on. "Swan, we're pushing the bounds of propriety as it is."

"You'll sleep better here, and if I have another nightmare, you'll be closer to stop it."

He would have argued till kingdom come if her voice hadn't gotten small at the end of her request. "On one condition Swan. You tell me what you remember of that nightmare."

She nodded, surprising Killian again this night. But he wasn't going to deny her comfort for his own, not when she was so willing to be open with pieces of herself. He shifted under the comforters, easing behind her again. He rubbed her arm as before while she talked about a foster father she was placed with for three weeks. How this man called her "His Sweet Girl", and did things no little girl should ever have to endure. Killian listened as she drifted away, her voice coming in and out of the story as she did.

He had almost followed her when she came back to him with a voice heavy in sleep. "Killian?"

"Yes love?"

"You get pervy on me, and I'm using the Taser in my travel case on your balls."

He smirked, "Of course love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone: In case it feels like Emma is too open at the end of this chapter, I'd like to point out that I have her with Graham, Ruby, and Granny as constant family for the last 5 years. In canon, it took her less to be as such with her family. Killian has been vetted with all three of her pseudo-family members, and she isn't picking out China patterns here.


	12. All Things Have Consequence

**Chapter 11:**

**All Things Have Consequence**

* * *

Killian's recounting of Walsh's phone call shook Emma just as much as if she had picked it up herself. She knew Walsh was nuts, could comprehend that the brain of someone like him couldn't process information properly, that there wasn't any reasoning with him on any level –werewolf or no. Knowing the facts didn't stop her skin from crawling when Killian told her Walsh had admitted to stalking her prior to taking her. And it certainly didn't stop the vomit from climbing her throat when he recited Walsh's words describing her actions as a way to try and please the bastard. All Emma wanted to do was curl up in bed and pretend the phone call hadn't happened, but Killian wasn't doing any better than she was, and she couldn't leave him to deal with it alone. She doubted he'd stray very far from Ruby's front door anyway, so rather than risk another busted door or tripping over his body in the morning, Emma tried to set him up on the couch. Ruby came up with the idea to have Killian sleep on his own couch and Emma steal his bed, giving everyone their own space; it sounded like a decent plan till Ruby commented that it might ease tensions all around. That got the Taser to join Emma's toothbrush. She might understand the tactile affirmation they seemed to thrive on, but even with Ruby's assurances to Killian's character, Emma had doubts about a man not pressing his advantage when a woman willingly crawled her way into his bed. Very loud and very familiar doubts that continued right up until he protested the whole notion like she had proposed a prostate exam.

When her touch dropped his shoulders nearly an inch and he _still_ objected, he earned a chance to prove her right or wrong.

When he rescued her from her nightmare, and still tried to keep things proper, fighting the comfort he brought with him was too big a task.

When the sun rose to shine light on choices made in the dark, all of her doubts came screaming back.

The "morning after" isn't ever an easy situation and Emma avoided it as often as possible. Nothing but awkward moments of stilted conversations and half-assed morning rituals. (Try peeing in someone's bathroom where the walls are paper-thin and you couldn't remember their name.) She had hoped that like most people, Killian and she would have rolled away from each other sometime in the night, retreating to edges for the solitary sleeping they were both used to. Instead, she had gone in the opposite direction and rolled right into him. He had an arm outstretched under her head serving as a pillow, while his other was cast over her middle letting his fingers dangle at her lower back. His chin lay on the top of her head, as her nose was tucked into his neck, and she refused to acknowledge what tangled mess their legs had become. This was the part where Emma would normally sneak away, and make excuses of things to do should the guy wake up in her escape. She wasn't sure if that was the way to go this time, but distance between their bodies had to happen soon before he –and certain parts of him– woke up too. Emma tried to roll away, only gaining an inch before the dead weight of the arm slung over her tightened and held her close again. The one under her head flexed as the elbow bent, allowing his fingers to play through her hair. Emma froze, thinking she woke Killian up; forcing her heartbeat to remain as even as she could. But his breathing never changed and nothing else moved. His arms behaving like a separate intelligence to him by functioning entirely on their own.

His fingers scratched her scalp in a steady rhythm; his body was warm where the air was cold. The bed was comfortable, the blankets soft. He smelled of man and warmth, and she felt... _good_. But there was a time where she felt this version of good before; safe and contained against the hardness of the world. And that man set her up to fall in love and land in jail. It had burned and hurt more than every foster home she'd been through. (And a fair amount of those were settings for a Lifetime* movie.) Walsh hadn't made her feel good, but before he turned into dog-boy, he had managed to make her think that version of good might be worth finding again. But this was another time that life showed her what feeling good brought, and if all Emma had to go on was her life experiences, then feeling good like this came right before pain and misery. Two things she was more than ready to stop having. Lord knows what Killian's version of "good" would bring her. Ruby seemed to love Killian; Graham seemed to hate him, which was confusing because he trusted Killian in the same breath. If Emma trusted their words on what was important to a werewolf, and how easily it appeared to offend each other, then this loyalty to each other was earned the hard way. If they could trust Killian, there shouldn't be anything stopping her from doing the same… right?

For a brief moment, Emma pictured giving in to the attraction they both obviously had. When they finished this problem with Walsh, would there be dates and evenings together, mornings like this? She didn't really know Killian outside of what she had been told, and she wasn't sure that was much better than barely knowing Walsh or thinking she knew Neal. She could see him sticking around after, making sure she was adjusting to everything, till a new case took him away. Far away, with other men and women to save. How many towns would he run through before he could come back? Were there others already waiting, hoping he'd swing through their town again? How long was his list of broken hearts, still yearning hearts? How far in that list was she? Emma couldn't breathe, couldn't see beyond the bright sunlight showcasing her fears. She tugged back again, feeling his arms flex the same as before; holding her to him and playing with her hair, giving silent comfort even in his sleep. She pulled harder, unable to shake the impression that he let her go, even when a soft snore escaped when she turned to look at him. It was for the better, she wouldn't be able to say anything overtly coherent or intelligent right now. And telling him that she simply couldn't be wrong about him seemed a lame excuse in her own head. It was running away, she knew it, but Emma didn't really know what else to do.

Toiletries in hand, she left as quickly and as quietly as she was able. Running for her own place rather than Ruby's. She needed the sanctuary of her things.

* * *

Killian had lost count of how many emotions she sailed through when she woke. But anxiety had underlined them all until it was all she had left to deal with. A tricky emotion as it could cause the bravest hero to run in fear, or get the coward to stand on their feet and fight back. Regardless, he wouldn't be the source of her panic, not when she had so many of those already. When she pulled away again, he released the hold his arms had adopted when she came to him in the dark. He waited until he didn't hear her footsteps rushing down the hall before he rolled over into the empty space that had been hers, burrowing deep into the scent she left behind.

* * *

Emma took her first shower alone since this all started. She wanted so much to believe that everyone in this building was nuts; that they were making up stories due to boredom and needed release. People did that right? People who recreated battles long since over, or the people who worked in a ghost town of the old west, or where they posed colonials just before the Revolutionary War. Grown people living out fantasies and alternate lifestyles day in and day out. Emma suddenly wondered if Ruby, Graham, or Killian had full suits of fur hanging in a secret place in their closets. Maybe they all wanted to be a wolf pack so bad they had convinced themselves of it. Walsh wasn't something super scary, just super demented. She hadn't seen his fingers extend, nor his eyes turn the color of old blood, that was all streetlights and shadows. Killian wasn't the stray dog that tore up her home, and he didn't have eyes that blended into a glacier tone when he became upset. She was sane and everyone was lost in la-la land. She had been attacked; Killian had shown up and scared Walsh away. Walsh was stalking her. But werewolves?

It's amazing how readily the mind goes to rationalize the weird, and how the use of the shower can expedite the process.

Her version made sense, and she'd pat herself on the back for coming up with neat little boxes to fit everything into –if she could reach. Didn't mean any of it was the truth. However rational her mind tried to be, there was that part in the back of it, screaming at her that rational wouldn't work this time. Emma didn't want to acknowledge the truth for what it was, not when it meant something crazed and strong was after her and the only family she had ever known had been lying to her for years. Forgive them she would, of that there was no question; it just wasn't something she'd easily forget. And if she was right, then she didn't have to forgive them for lying, because they never had been. She would help them find support groups, there had to be one or two, this was New York.

Emma's mind had gone right back to the place before Granny had dropped the curtain, unsure and scared of the people who were watching out for her. Did they even count as people anymore?

Emma's head hurt.

Drying off and claiming fresh clothes, she decided to keep her head in the rational. Her instincts might want to argue, but her heart needed the damn break from being broken. Emma could believe that _they_ believed their stories, but belief alone wasn't enough to make things reality. Emma marched back to Ruby's to get her laptop, keeping with the idea of being rational. ( _At least Ruby wasn't home. Ruby would want details from last night; all of them._ ) Killian had made a valid point the night before; money was tight and she wasn't working currently, and her last catch wasn't going to stretch very far either. She rolled her left shoulder, feeling the pull of scabbed and tight skin. Well, she tried to roll it; it still twinged and refused to go any further when it was at the top of the rotation, which only told her she wouldn't be catching anyone else any time soon. This last payment would have to go farther than it would want to go. If money was to be stretched, bills needed to be paid first. Sure, Granny might overlook the rent till things went back to normal, but the people at the phone company weren't that charitable. The cell phone bill took first priority, as it was the largest, and the most needed amenity. Push come to shove; Emma could always shut off her utilities and move in with Ruby till money was coming back in. Internally she was already cringing before even opening the payment option; she knew she had gone over on her data limit. But when the page loaded, it claimed a zero balance; payment received in full four days ago. Emma opened another tab, going to her car insurance; payment in full six days ago. Every bill she had was the same, paid in full within the previous week. So she checked her balance at the bank, not sure if she was hoping for or against an automatic payment problem. What she saw instead, was more financial shenanigans. As nice as it was to see her account both in the black, and with four digits above the zero mark, it wasn't right. And very possibly illegal.

_Joy. Because things weren't fun enough._

Emma checked her deposit history. There was a steady influx of $200 a day since the day of her attack. Care of Humbert & Dornan.

Wolf or man, he was dead.

Emma slammed the laptop closed. She needed out. She needed gone. Ruby would see her if she went out the front, Granny would see her if she left through the alleyway entrance. Both would stop her. Or worse, send Killian after her. Wolf or man, she wasn't in the mood to face him either.

_Desperate times and blah blah blah._

She backtracked to her apartment, grabbed her favorite jacket, and climbed out her window and down the fire escape. The drop stung up her legs, and Emma smiled ruefully as the thought of "I've had worse" pulsed through her head. She needed to run someone down. Catch them, trick them… anything to take the "kept" feeling away from her skin. She'd go to work, beg Fred for the easiest case he had. Emma was even willing to catch up on her paperwork if it meant she was doing for herself. Her mind was on a single track and paid little attention to much of anything else around her. So furious with Graham's audacity (however well intended), she didn't remember there was a psychotic dog-boy after her, and possibly watching the building for her movements.

She wouldn't have seen him on that particular rooftop even if she did.

* * *

Walsh shook with anticipation. His pet was fleeing out of her bedroom window. The Captain and the tainted bitch weren't following; she was escaping them.

She was coming to him.

He waited till he saw which direction she took on the street before he shot down his own fire escape. She would be his. Sooner than Grandmother said. If his tail was out, Walsh was almost certain it would be wagging like his baser, four-legged cousins.

* * *

"Alright you two, time to stop necking." Killian never locked his door, so Ruby just waltzed her way in. (Though if it had been locked, she would have just used her key and thrown the word "naked" in her greeting somewhere.) Ruby was partially hoping to see them making out, knowing the Emma could use a round or two with a guy who wasn't an asshole and Killian… well Ruby hadn't ever seen Killian give this level of attention to anyone. It was a nice thought that someone could ground him and give his wolf a sense of home finally.

Instead of Ruby getting her wish, all she got was Killian popping his head out from the kitchen, letting his eyebrows practice their split-level performance act. "Pardon?"

"I'm looking for Emma. Are you two plotting away in here, or are you two becoming _really_ good friends?"

His eyebrow came down and met the other in a frown. "Emma isn't here. Hasn't been since this morning."

Realization swept through Ruby, breaking into a full run out the door and down the hall.

"Rubles? Ruby! What is it? Where is Emma?" He rushed after her, following her into her own apartment, catching on at some point in following her. "I don't smell Walsh."

She bee lined for the laptop still on the bed, "No, she wasn't taken. Emma would have fought and trashed the room. Cut him or herself to leave a blood trail."

"We wouldn't need blood to track her, why would she do that?"

Ruby felt her patience slip a little. "She's human Killian. She works with criminals all the time. If her life were in danger, she'd think to leave a trail of DNA evidence. Or she'd throw things not just to fight, but to show signs of a struggle."

Emma had been smart enough to lock her computer, making Ruby wonder if she was proud of her friend for being so clever, or being pissed that it would take a couple minutes to figure out the new password.

"You're thinking she left then?" Killian's voice was tight. A ripple of power flowed through the room. She needed him out of the building. If he lost it and changed, he would trigger the change of the few wolves staying there.

"Track her. Stay human so I can call you when I figure out where she went, or why she bolted."

Ruby looked up when she no response came. Apparently, she had been talking to the walls. Killian was already gone.

* * *

Emma was in a haze. The people at the bank had spun her in circles. They had already called Graham's company to verify the deposits after the third day; Humbert & Dornan complied fully, even faxing over invoices complete with Emma's signature. The bank manager had been brought in at that point. She offered to return the funds, and block any further incoming deposits, but the account would have to be frozen pending an investigation. Emma declined only because she wasn't mad enough at Graham to bring that kind of legal trouble down on him. She had made her way to the office of Stone Bonds next, very nearly dropping to her knees begging for a job. Any job, paperwork and filing even, her co-worker's paperwork included. But when Emma was asked to stretch her hands in the air and then bend over and touch her toes, she knew her boss had been made aware of the severity of her injuries. Her life didn't feel like her own anymore, so she let her feet take her where they pleased, needing some form of freedom. Torn between crying for what had been in her control, and raging at the people who took it away from her. Between being happy to have people who loved her enough to take care of her while she was down, and hating that it cost her basic independence and privacy.

Emma wanted to scream and cry.

It didn't matter what she wanted as the tears spilled over her cheeks anyway out of frustration; wet streaks she was too familiar with now, and she hated that too. She hadn't been a crier before all of this. Lately it was like she couldn't stop. In her impatience with _everything_ , she reached down awkwardly and picked up a stick, chucking it hard without looking to where it landed. The movements hurt, but pain gave her head a point to focus on. Emma hated wallowing, and thankfully the trick worked; her mind brought itself more to the here and now. Her brain clicked and registered that her phone was buzzing in her jacket. It clicked that she was back in the park.

It clicked that she had wandered in the same general area Walsh had chased her.

_Fuck Me._

She pulled out her phone, not surprised to see Ruby's face displayed. Emma swore a few colorful words before answering it. "I'm fine Ruby."

"Like hell you are. I poked around your computer; I'd be pissed too. Killian is out looking for you. Tell me where you are so I can point him in your direction."

"What? No lecture?"

"Oh you're in for it, believe me. Right now, we just need to get you home."

"My feet got me this far, I'm sure I can get back on my own thank you."

"Argue later how you are fine all alone, with a serial killing werewolf hunting you. Location. Now."

Emma cringed. "The Park, same general area where Killian first found me."

There was a moment of semi-silence –Emma was sure she heard some growling coming from Ruby's end. "He's on his way. For the love of god, please don't provoke him. I get you're angry, but he isn't the reason why."

Emma wanted to argue just for the sake of it, the only response she could come up with against being told what she could do – _again_. Ruby was right and maybe that was what was burning most. Emma almost threw her phone in protest.

"Emma?"

"Yes. Fine, yes. I'll stay put like a good little girl and wait for a grown-up to find me."

"I don't deserve to be talked to like that, but you've more than earned the right to say it. I've called in Graham. He'll be here in a couple hours. By all means, skin him alive."

Emma began to slowly pace, feeling the leaves crunch underfoot. "I don't know if I even want to see him. I understand why he did it, I do, but he didn't ask me, didn't even talk to me about it. You warned me about his type taking it too far when they take care of people, but this is ridiculous."

"I'm a little surprised your bank didn't get suspicious."

"No, they did. They inquired, and Graham's people provided invoices signed by me. He covered it all as hired services. I asked them to put a stop on it, but it would push them into freezing my account due to the amount that had already been deposited. I have bills that wouldn't be happy about that part, or had bills that would have been angry. He paid all of those last week."

Ruby let out a low whistle, "I'll hold him down for you."

It was silent between them for about thirty seconds. "You're going to stay on the line till Killian shows up, aren't you?"

"Duh."

Emma stopped her pacing. "It's daylight, sun shining and people all over the place. I don't think Walsh would do something when there are so many potential witnesses."

"You could be right. But with Walsh being crazy and all, I think I'll just keep talking to you."

She heard footsteps somewhere behind her the same time she saw Killian come into view; raising her hand to wave at him. "He's here, is that good enough?"

"Has he found you?"

An arm slipped around her stomach while another yanked the phone from her hand. "Oh, I found her. My thanks for stitching her up and keeping her alive for me."

_Walsh._

Emma froze, looking up and seeing Killian running for her, moving faster than a human should move. But he still wasn't close enough. Walsh threw her phone away, using the same hand to move her hair from her neck. Tilting her head to the side with his own. "Did you miss me my sweet girl?"

"You should let me go." Her voice wasn't steady, but Emma was happy enough to still have it.

"Oh, but you're mine." He ran his tongue up the length of her neck. "You shouldn't fight what you really want Emma. You wore that dress at the club for me. You came here, a place where you found out what I was. Your heart already knows what's good for you; it's your mind that's fighting it."

Emma never lost sight of Killian. He was closer. But Walsh had his hands on her. Killian wasn't close enough.

"Start walking away with me Emma; I see him coming. Start walking, or I add a few more scars to your lovely body." He moved his hand over a breast, squeezing it painfully.

Emma fought back a scream. Stand her ground and possibly die, or walk away and die later.

The arm around her middle tugged her back, forcing her feet to move as he spun them away from Killian's advance.

"He's going to catch up and kill you Walsh."

"Not in broad daylight he won't. Not with all these people around. He won't risk exposure. He'll let me take you. He might try to find me after, but he won't save you."

"He did before." _Keep him talking._

"Did he convince you he was a hero? He only saved you then because it would make it easier to track me if I chose to keep you."

"That's a big 'if'. And a bigger one would be 'if' I survived those injuries." She feigned a stumble.

He dragged her back up. "True, and I almost let you go. I had picked you out a week before. But I wasn't planning on fighting off The Captain for you. There are plenty of other pets in the world who could use my guidance. It was Grandmother who convinced me to come back for you. Grandmother thinks you're special; I can't wait for you to meet her."

A roar boomed from behind, Walsh turned them both again, refusing to remove his arm. Killian was still coming for them, but Killian wasn't Killian. It was Killian shaped, more or less. This new version was hairier, its hands couldn't be called hands now, and his face had switched into something much more grotesque. His features twisted with more than just his impending wrath.

_Christ, he really isn't human._

"Well now, this is interesting. Seems there's another cock in the hen house." Walsh turned her in his arms, kissing her on the mouth. "Don't worry my sweet girl. I'll find a way to get you to my home. Where you belong."

He pushed her away, though it felt more like flying, landing on her back. There wasn't a way to hold back the scream that tore from her throat then. Pain broke through her and Killian thundered again. Emma shut her eyes begging her body to black out. She wanted to sleep through the pain, sleep through the next day too. Her world was contracting on itself and she had zero say in any of it. Killian was on her a moment later, running his hands –or what used to be his hands– over her arms and legs; checking for breaks. She opened her eyes when she felt him closer to her head. His face was more or less normal now, but his nose was still shifting and his eyes were white once more. There had to be something still wrong with his mouth because he tried talking and all that came out were garbled sounds.

Unknown feet came running up to them; Killian froze in his place. "Hey lady, you alright?"

Emma nodded, realizing the person couldn't see it with Killian hovering as he was. "Yeah."

"Ma'am?" She must not have been loud enough.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ok. I tripped and fell wrong." Killian slipped a hand into a jacket pocket, pulling out sunglasses.

"Let me help you up." The man strode over. Emma figured it wasn't the best of ideas, Killian barely passing for human at this point. But that was probably the reason the man was coming over to begin with.

"So much for New Yorkers being the meanest and most jaded in the world." Emma forced a giggle. "Really, I was just super clumsy. My boyfriend here was just scolding me for giving him gray hairs early."

The man didn't stop until he was right next to them. Looking her up and down. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, no worries. Just need a minute to catch my breath. Got the wind knocked right out of me when I landed."

He eyed the back of Killian's head, "Right. Tell you what, name's Mike and I'm just over there," he pointed in the distance past Emma's feet, "doing some painting. If you need help getting up, or help walking, or _anything_ , you give me a shout ok?"

"Sure thing Mike, thank you." Emma waved him off.

Killian's hand came up and cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing over the apple of her cheek. The touch was gentle, a contrast to the fury she had only just seen from him. She leaned into it, telling herself it was his need for physical touch rather than her own.

He cleared his throat, trying for words again. "Can you get up?"

"A little help would be nice."

Killian gave her a short nod. Emma expected him to step away and grab her hands, but he scooped his arms under her torso and legs. It was a stupid reason, but the act caused Emma to burst into a fit of laughter. His brow shot up in question, and she laughed harder.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She tried to stamp down the giggles, "It's just that whenever you pick me up, its bridal style."

His face didn't change, telling Emma that she was the only one that understood the joke. On the other hand, maybe she was in shock, and something that was merely a curious matter became something else. Giving up on the grumpy man helping her, she pointed in a general direction.

"Home Jeeves."

"As you wish."

* * *

She didn't expect Killian to carry her the entire way home, but she expected his hailing a cab even less. He shrugged her shocked face away, claiming one cab driver was faster and easier to deal with than the crowds on the streets. He gave an address a block away from their building, and held her hand until they reached the alleyway that connected to the back entrance of Granny's. His arm went around her shoulders then. He hadn't spoken since the cab pulled into traffic. Inside, he steered them up the stairs, passed both her and Ruby's apartments. She should have known he'd take her to the place he felt safest. In his apartment, he locked the door behind them, without letting her go. He took them both into his bedroom, giving her the command to sit when he placed her by the bed, leaving her side to go into his closet. There was a voice in her head rebelling at yet another person taking control of what she could and could not do. But it was tiny, and barely sounded convinced itself. Killian had saved her –again. Killian had brought her home –again. And it wasn't like he was making her do something weird like getting naked. Staying put, she began removing her outermost layers, just to keep her hands busy. She didn't enjoy being idle right then. He returned with a set of sweatpants and a tee shirt. He didn't hand them to her, but took them into his bathroom; the sound of his shower running shortly followed. He came back to her, eyes still white, reaching for her hands. She didn't fight until he started pulling her to the bathroom.

"Hey, wait... hold on Killian. Talk to me, what are you doing?" He just met her eyes, not stopping till they were standing in his bathroom. The childish part of her quoted a movie back to her. _There is no Killian, only Zuul._ "I'm fine. Really. You saved the day again."

"Strip."

"Excuse me?"

He leaned in, taking an exaggerated deep breath. Turning his nose to her pulse point (which was ticking off faster than when Walsh had wrapped himself around her). "You smell like him. You need to wash it off. You'll have your privacy once you're in the shower, however I'm not leaving this room."

"Take me to Ruby's. I'll shower there. I'll even find clothes that fit me better."

If she wasn't in still shock, if she hadn't convinced herself that all of this was just a mass hallucination by everyone around her, and if her day hadn't consisted of just about everyone showing her how little control she had in her life, Emma might have remembered that you don't challenge a dominant like Killian. Maybe. She tugged her hands out of his, spinning on her heels to make her way to somewhere else, anywhere else. Her first step missed its landing as he picked her up and deposited her in the warm running water of his shower.

**"** _**GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT KILLIAN!** _ **"**

He simply stood in the way, blocking her exit. That eyebrow reaching up in a way that was becoming far too familiar. He said nothing more, only shifting his weight to block every escape she tried to make, effectively soaking her clean through in the process.

"Fine." Closing the shower curtain with far too much force. (She had to realign the opposite side.)

Emma stripped off her wet clothes, throwing them over the shower rod, hoping that at least one would land on Killian's head. She let the warm water wash over her, reluctantly admitting to herself that it did feel good. But damn if she'd scrub an inch of skin using Killian's soap or shampoo. She leaned against the tiles, exposing her back to the spray. The bruises slowly let themselves be known, the scrapes stinging away. Emma would need a new employment at this rate; her back was never going to heal properly. _If_ she ever got back to reality. The one where Graham wasn't trying to recreate a Stepford wife. The one where she got to catch the bad guys instead of them catching her. The one where the good guys didn't tell her to strip naked to wash away the stench of the bad man. Where she had her own place and her own life and she could walk down the street without wondering if every person she saw wasn't some other type of... _other_.

She heard the curtain open again, but she refused to move. Killian reached passed her to the soap she had ignored. A lathered washcloth moved along her skin, his hand never lingering in the places most men would take advantage of, even when he turned her under the spray. He leaned over again, grabbing a different bottle. Pouring some into his hand, he spun her so she was facing the tiles once more. His fingers worked through her hair, working through the knots. Emma let him. She was tired of fighting. He moved her around, rinsing her off, shutting off the water when he was satisfied. He squeezed out her hair, toweled her off without becoming inappropriate. That towel was tossed aside and he grabbed another, wrapping it around her, finally giving her a barrier between them. She sniffled, mentally cursing some more as it dawned on her that she had been crying –again.

He lifted her once more, taking her to the small counter space near the sink, positioning her so her feet were in the sink. She leaned her head against the wall. Pretending in her head that she was a plastic doll, and a little girl somewhere was playing with her. He had a hair dryer in hand ( _He has a hair dryer?_ ) and worked her hair again with a comb; the hot air felt nice. She must have zoned ( _At least I've stopped crying_ ), because he adjusted her again, putting her legs into the sweatpants he had brought out. He lifted her ( _always lifting me_ ), finally setting her on the floor. Letting her keep the towel in place, he pulled the pants up. Only to take it away to put the shirt on.

His hand cupped her face like he had done in the park, but she couldn't lean into it this time. Couldn't look at him now. "I'm sorry Emma."

"For making me strip? For washing me? For making me wear your clothes?"

"No." Emma flinched with his tone. "No, I'm not sorry for that. You smelled like him, and it was better for everyone that the scent was removed quickly. I couldn't chance running into Ruby at her place. Do you have any idea what would have happened if she had smelled him on you?"

"Same as you. Except it would have been someone I'm familiar with helping me clean up."

Killian shook his head. "She would have changed. She heard him grab you Swan. And you would have been trapped in the room with an angry wolf. It can take a couple minutes after the change for us to get our bearings, and you would have been a source of aggravation. I don't dare think of what might have happened if we had run across Granny." He grabbed her chin, forcing her gaze to finally land on him. "I apologize for making you uncomfortable, but not for the action. It needed to be done." His thumb stroked along her jaw. "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough to stop Walsh from grabbing you as he did. I'm sorry I didn't follow after you this morning when you left. I thought you needed some time alone and would be safe in Ruby's home. I'm sorry your life has turned inside out and you can't find your balance in it."

Tears came again; she hated each one that fell. "I'm tired Killian."

"You are welcome to my bed, or I can escort you to Ruby's."

Emma leaned her forehead against his chest. It was a decision he was giving her. A fraction of the control she had wanted only hours ago. He was handing it to her, and all she wanted to do was hand it right back.

"Here."

He bent and picked her up. She hoped that extra strength wasn't a myth; she'd hate to be giving him back problems when he was helping her. He laid her down on top of the comforter, letting her scoot under on her own. His hand reached out, brushing the hair from her face. Emma grabbed it when he pulled away.

"Here." She told him again.

His eyes were returning to their normal blue as he nodded. He moved to the other side of the bed, clothing making dull thuds on the floor as he made himself more comfortable. He eased in behind her. He wasn't naked, but only just.

It was mid-afternoon, and Emma was right back where she had started her day. In Killian's bed, with him curled around her. Whispering soft, soothing words; chasing away the dreams of a man that called her his sweet girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy that Emma is trusting and open huh? Yeah well, overthinking and stress makes Emma backslide behind her walls. 
> 
> *Lifetime is a cable channel in the US that displays shows and movies about abused women and children; usually adapted stories from actual events.*


	13. Chest Thumping and Grandmothers

**Chapter 12:**

**Chest Thumping and Grandmothers**

* * *

Killian vowed to never speak of what he witnessed Walsh do to Emma. When he tried to think on it and process the whole affair, Killian was faced with questionable reactions and a galling lack of control over them. Which caused him to wonder entirely about speaking of it aloud; it might very well push him over into the depths of madness. Imagine then his despair when those events played out repeatedly, as he slept. In his dreams ( _if they could bloody well be called such things_ ), he was satisfyingly tearing Walsh into little bite-sized parts, or Emma would remain out of his reach no matter how fast he ran towards her. There were times where Killian would watch Walsh kill Emma instead of take her, and once where Emma walked away of her own accord. Variation upon variation, keeping rest away. So when Killian would stir to awareness after each round –regardless if it had been minutes or mere seconds– and her heartbeat would sound strong in his ears or steady under his fingers, Killian would bury his nose in Emma's hair, needing to remind his brain that she safe and home. It was the only allowances of unrequested touch he was willing to risk. However after each nap that stole him away, he would wake flushed with Emma once more. While unsure who was seeking whom, it was still a conversation he would have to have with himself discussing proper boundaries when in cohabitation sleeping arrangements. He inched portions of his form away from the curvatures of hers, breathing in her scent to settle his wolf from the dreams once again. The sulfuric burn hummed under the warmth of sunlight, wafting up with each beat of her heart. Now layered with the smell of his soap and his own scent on the clothes she wore, other things besides his mind stirred to wakefulness. It was a few more inches between their bodies he took alongside his growing frustration; a welcome frustration if it chased away the images from the most recent dream. There he would stay, until he could drift off again.

It was a dreamless slumber –though he wasn't sure if he should be thankful for it or not– and took it as a sign that it was time to rise and deal with the other wolves that would want to see Emma. He chanced an open eye to see if the woman was still out, not enjoying the idea of waking her and making her face this new trauma. She was turned away from him, mercifully still sleeping, and flushed to him again. Killian attempted to inch his body away again only to be met with the edge of the bed and the option of falling out should he do so. Both halves of him grinned. ( _And here I thought I had been seeking her out._ ) She was either intent on stealing his bed entirely, or she was more of a cuddler than she let on. Very likely, it was a marriage of the two choices.

His grin stretched wider. Temptation beckoned him to play with her as he would any other lass he'd bring to bed. Wondering if she would elbow his nose first or his ribs.

_No. No, she's the kind to play back. To lean in and work me until I've forgotten I was playing at all. Then. Oh but then she'd hold something very sharp to something very important._

The sun was already on the horizon, the season causing it to rest in the late afternoon rather than the evening. Telling Killian that Graham would be here soon, if not already. It would take an act of god to convince Graham that taking Emma to the Pack House was still a bad idea, and maybe not even then. Killian idly considered following Emma's example and climbing out the window with her in tow. Hard as he tried, he couldn't keep her contained or safe in the city, there were already far too many variables to contend with without adding her adjustment into the mix. It didn't matter how he twisted the information around in his head, the only solution that kept her safe and kept Walsh from moving on was taking her to his farmhouse. She'd be stubborn over it. Graham would be against it entirely, possibly even violent. Very likely violent.

Killian had to wake her. Had to convince her to trust him completely and take off to some unknown location.

_Ask her for a roll in the sheets while I'm at it for all the good it'll do me_.

Emma, the blessed woman, solved his immediate problem and woke herself. With a whimper, with a moan. With a shifting of her body, with a stretch. With a contented sigh. Killian held her a little tighter, burying his nose into her hair just a little further. This blessed woman was a sodding minx.

"Darling," she stiffened against him as he spoke, "I normally wouldn't argue to such sounds –to any of what you just did really. However, it wouldn't be proper to take advantage of a woman in your circumstances when she's not fully capable of resisting my charms. Bad form and all."

She rolled slowly away from him. He didn't stop touching, just let his hand slide along her body as she moved. (He briefly thought of letting go of her completely, an idea that sparked a growl low in his throat. Even Killian only pushed his wolf so far.) Emma settled on her stomach and his hand stopped on her lower back. His thumb started tracing small circles; waiting. She finally turned her head only enough to have a singular eye peer at him.

"Did I take over the bed?"

Killian chuckled. "Aye love. But I'd be a liar if I said I minded."

He caught the twitch that would have been a smile. "How long did I sleep?"

"A couple hours." The hand that refused to leave her reached over to her hair, tucking away a few errant strands that hid her face. "Asking if you are alright would be asinine, but tell me anyway?"

"I won't say I'm ok. I wouldn't even go as far to say I'm better than before. But alive and safe and not with Walsh is something."

Killian shifted closer. His knees bent and bumping the side hers. "Safe Swan?" She shrugged her shoulder. "Wasn't it I who forced you to disrobe? Then when you wouldn't clean yourself of Walsh's scent, bathed your skin myself?" His voice had dropped in tone, and his eyes couldn't decide between admiring her lips and drowning in green pools. "Safe, whilst in my bed?"

She may have smelled of fear-laced arousal, but her eyes glinted with mischief. "As safe as a virgin in a church."

He couldn't help it, the laughter burst out of him. "You wouldn't be saying that if you knew the amount of debauchery that occurs in such places."

She began a slow slide away from him. "And if I did know?"

Killian swallowed. "Swan–"

But Emma had climbed out of the other side of the bed. "You did tell Ruby you got me home at least? Or Graham? Granny? They haven't been looking for me this whole time have they?"

"Aye, Ruby knows. She'll be running interference on Humbert until you are ready to hold audience."

"Hold audience?"

"His actions were the ones that caused you to run in the first place correct? Though in his defense –and please understand how much it pains me to do this– he was only helping you. You would never accepted financial help openly." He held up a finger when she moved to argue, "Yes, he should have spoken it over with you as soon as you were awake from the first time. Yes, he should have given you the choice then. But ask yourself, would you have been this upset if it had been Ruby or Granny that had done it?"

Her mouth opened and closed a few times. "That's what I figured." Killian rose from the bed, making his way to stand in front of her. "Now the reason is one of two possibilities. Either A: you are a good friend and the idea of accepting his help as such causes concern for the relationship as it stands. Will you owe him? Is it leading him on?" He waved his hands through the air, "So on and so forth. Or B: you are incapable of letting an authoritative male take charge of your life."

She scowled at him. Gods help him; she was tempting even in that. She was refusing to lie to him, but unwilling to admit he had figured out this part of her. Possibly before her own mind had made the initial attempts.

"My boss is a man, and I like him just fine. Usually like Graham a whole bunch too."

He felt his features soften for her. _Definitely my favorite human._ "And when your boss refused you work because of your injuries? He was still pale by the time I caught up that far."

A blush bloomed on her cheeks, while she tried to mask her embarrassment with more indignant anger. "You went to my work? Why?"

Killian tapped the tip of his nose. "Tracking you darling."

"But I had hours on you."

"It's my strength and my job to track people."

Her eyebrows went up. "In New York City, during peak traffic hours _and_ the lunch crowd?"

He carded his first two fingers through the hair at her forehead, sweeping away the strands that seem to habitually fall in her face. A habit Killian noted, he fully appreciated. "Let's just say I was motivated."

"Because of Walsh." He said nothing. Similarly to Emma, he wouldn't lie, and refused to confess anything either. If she believed her assessment, all the better in the end. She cleared her throat, stepping away. "He said some interesting things in the park."

"Oh?"

She hummed. "Called you 'The Captain' for one. You'll have to explain that nickname at some point." Her arms folded over her middle, hands rubbing her arms against a false chill brought on by foul memories. "But he said he was ready to skip town after that first night, didn't want to fight you for me. Someone he calls 'Grandmother' talked him into staying. Convinced him I'm special, or some nonsense."

"I wouldn't call that nonsense. Quite apt in fact."

A mirthless laugh came from a humorless smile. "Yeah right."

Killian felt a shiver run up his spine. She believed her own words and he wanted nothing more than to shake her senseless.

She furrowed her brows, glancing around the room. "Do you hear that?"

It was him; well… wolf him, growling at her point of view. Not that Killian found a reason to argue with the animalistic sentiment. He redirected the focus with a wave of his hand to her phone. "Call Ruby and give the all clear then. Have her bring up some food, and the four of us can sit down to discuss these new details."

Her eyebrow shot up.

Killian beamed a smile at her. "After you've properly castrated the Alpha, of course."

It was few minutes later she made the call, when her laughter had finally died down.

* * *

Ruby had shown up only moments after the call had ended, just about tackling Emma to the floor of Killian's living room. Ruby's words falling fast, filled with admonishments and questions and without breaking her verbal flow, Ruby dragged Emma over to the corner Killian was trying to fade into, to hug them both at the same time. Gratitude to Killian for another rescue working its way into the tirade Ruby had found herself on. It was awkward; the sudden group hug. Not that Emma was about to argue the outpouring affection, not after the trouble she had found again. And if it gave her the excuse to feel Killian's arm around her shoulders… well. But true to form, her libido was aiming itself at the wrong type of man.

_Well… male. Not sure about the man part. Is he a man if he isn't human? He's man shaped at least…_

Ruby glanced her way and Killian's arm flexed.

_Right… they can smell… things…_

Her libido throwing in bad timing for good measure. Ruby's face turned to that of a dirty secret, promising even more "girl talk" than normal. For once, Emma found herself looking forward to something so benign and normal.

A soft knock at the door sounded Graham's arrival. Ruby left Emma with Killian to open the door, stopping half way as Graham let himself in. Emma didn't need super senses to feel the tension climb in the room. Killian's arm tightened, pulling her closer to him. She chanced a glance Graham's way, noticing his dove colored eyes bleed into amber ones. A low rumble sounded from under her ear. With Graham away, Emma had forgotten about this part of the territory thing.

' _Ug… my woman… my cave… me big strong dumb dumb…' Men never evolve, I swear to god._

She pushed slightly against Killian's hold on her. He, of course, flexed in protest, but let his arm drop all the same. His paling eyes never leaving Graham. Emma kept her footfalls quiet and even tempoed as she walked to the other male, not wanting to exacerbate the moment with needless drama. She circled her arms around Graham's waist, letting the sense of familiarity wash over her as his arms enclosed her in.

"I'm ok. No worse off than before." Emma tried to keep her words neutral, no sense pushing him. "We'll sort things after today."

Graham's head dipped closer to her ear, though she had no doubt he never broke eye contact with the other chest-thumper in the room. "I didn't even get a chance to be worried before you were already on your way home. Ruby told me you needed time alone and locked me in the back room with Granny when I got here. I might be Alpha, but she's scary Emma."

Emma laughed softly. "Serves you right. We need to re-do us, Graham. Boundaries and all. I get what you're doing, but it doesn't work for me. After this is over though, for now I just need you to stop treating me like I'm a Fabergé egg." She slapped his back when he started to stifle a laugh. "You know if you laugh every time I use a fancy sounding word, I'm going to stop using them."

She eased out of Graham's embrace, looking to his face finally. The tension hadn't eased an iota, but his eyes had returned to their normal hue. He let her go, though she knew that was because he had no idea what she was doing. Granny's words of staying the hell away from the two men while they were doing their silent pissing contest were virtually hung in the air in bright neon lights. Safety and protocol would have her sliding up to Ruby's side at this moment.

Naturally then, she had to ignore the glaringly easy choice for the one that made a point.

She walked right back to Killian's side. A move that quietly told everyone a whole list of what she thought of them. Such a simple manner of steps told Graham he needed to back down a great deal. It let Ruby know that Emma had zero romantic feelings for Graham. It told them all that Emma trusted Killian, and would be listening to him as much as she would anyone else in the room. It also told everyone that this little human still wasn't afraid of the big bad wolf, no matter who was filling that role. Her personal apprehensions of him would be hers to bear; there was enough bullshit to deal with already.

If nothing else, the tension broke for the shock she caused, as all of their eyes were on her now instead of drilling holes into each other's heads.

Emma gave them each a look in turn, never lingering too long on any of them. "Let's get this Pow-Wow going then huh?"

Ruby kept her face carefully blank. Graham gave a short nod before looking to the briefcase he had brought with him –currently sitting just a ways from his feet. Killian's eyebrow was in its customary position high on his head. Emma ignored the soft smile working its way on his lips.

* * *

The hungry wolves out voted the immediate plotting and planning in favor for their very verbal stomachs. They explained that after Walsh came on the phone, Ruby had come dangerously close to changing on a stairwell. (Wherein it took Granny's superior age to stave it off.) Graham had been updated en route of Emma's narrow escape and Ruby's close call, resulting in him showing up at the back door struggling to contain his own wolf. He fell into the initial change when he was told where Emma was recovering from her unfortunate outing. (Apparently Granny agreeing to lock herself in the surgical room with the Alpha was for more than just giving him a piece of her mind.) These reasons were supposed to explain to Emma why food was brought up from the diner by no less than four servers carrying full moving sized boxes of take-out containers, followed by two delivery people from Emma's favorite Thai restaurant carrying two bags each –very likely containing one of every food item on their menu. Killian's dining table was filled with very little room left to actually sit and eat. It was here, while they were filling their plates, that Killian leaned in and whispered that the change takes a great deal of energy, like running a triathlon, and more so to hold it off in times of stress. Werewolves need to eat more –and more often– to compensate the higher metabolism.

" _Apologies lass, if it offends you."_

" _Offend?"_

" _The extra appetite tends to put off those with more delicate sensibilities."_

" _That may be the first time anyone has ever accused me of being delicate. It's fine. If anything, gives me the perfect excuse to pig out without feeling guilty about it."_

No room at the dining table caused them to convert the living room to serve their needs; Graham and Killian dragging dining room chairs over for extra seating. Emma immediately took the corner of the couch (the same corner she had sequestered the first time) for better plate balance, pouting when she had gotten comfortable and realized she had forgotten her fork. But before she could ask for one, or rise to get it herself, a silver handle was held out to her; Killian shot her a wink as she took it from him, giving all pretense that it was a regular habit they shared. Conversation remained absent as the wolves went through their many helpings of food, and Emma mostly keeping up with them. Knowing that all three of them had come within a moment of becoming fur-covered quadrupeds, Emma felt her own little war going on inside her head; the first-hand account of seeing Killian deformed in the park battling it out with the rational idea that stress altered the perceived information. Thankfully, she realized that the constant and opposing dual sensations she kept experiencing were losing their edge of surprise. They were merely a thing of consideration at this point, and while she hadn't fully settled on one side or the other, she wasn't overwhelmed with the contention at the moment.

_They aren't human, no arguing that now. Maybe they're aliens…_

Lost to her musings, she didn't look up when Killian sat a water bottle on the end table next to her. Or notice that when she was finished with her second plate, she grabbed Killian's empty one on her way to the kitchen. Nor did she question the sudden showing of four chocolate chip cookies next to her water bottle when she got back. She did take note that while Killian had played nice by sitting in a dining room chair and not on the couch with her, that chair had been inching its way closer to her throughout the meal.

_Alien, wolf, or whatever… males are the same all over it seems…_

True to his Alpha rank, Graham took control of the gathering post gorging; requiring everyone to update him starting from his absence. It was Emma that did most of the talking, Killian and Ruby filling in where they could. Though it was the small conversation Emma had with Walsh in the park that really snagged Graham's attention, specifically the mention of "Grandmother". He rose from his chair and paced what length of room he could. Speaking almost to himself in his back and forth. "His birth grandparents all perished in the 1930's. Lived in Kansas during the Depression Era, but he was nearly a man then, wouldn't have been adopted or taken in. Joined the army, shipped to London during the blitz. He was turned shortly after…"

Killian tracking Graham's movements, joined in. "Do you suppose he meant his Sire Line?"

"Sire Line?" Ruby questioned, "Wolves haven't claimed that in over a thousand years. It would be a long shot he even knows about it at all."

"Aye," Killian agreed, "unless his conversion was made by an old wolf. Do we know who Changed him?"

"Yes, a London socialite. Female." Graham kept his pace, staring off into an unseen void, tapping his fingers to his lips.

"A female turned him?" Ruby asked in surprise.

"Is that rare?" Emma was trying to keep up, quietly thanking every vampire film she ever watched for giving her some basic idea of what the others were talking about.

"Yes." Ruby glanced to Emma, slight worry in her features and unable to keep her gaze from Graham long. "Female wolves are rare to begin with; we usually aren't allowed to be without a pack. Our Change is left to the Alpha's or The Council, so the females can be placed quickly. Granny and I managed it only because New York City has three packs with interlocking territories and we provide a safe house to loners like Killian. Helps keep the inter-fighting down. We've even been approached to provide lodgings for international wolves when the Councils convene in the States."

Killian snorted. "It was allowed because Granny is _Granny_. The Council couldn't control her, and there isn't a wolf dominant enough to bring her to heel. Not since her mate passed. They would have let her run Time Square if that was what she wanted. This," he waved his hands in the air, "was just a convenient PR excuse to the packs."

Graham started nodding, "And when she found out you had been Changed after–" his eyes darted to Emma as he fumbled his words, "– _after_ that night, she demanded you stay with her. It's still a story told at the Convergence."

Ruby's eyes blew open, "The _Alpha_ Convergence?"

Emma felt truly lost now, "I'm sorry, the what?"

Ruby and Graham were locked in a silent conversation, not acknowledging anything else. Killian picked up the explanation; a smirk playing at his lips as he leaned over and murmured, "Every five years, the pack Alpha's gather. It introduces wolves newly promoted to the role, and generally keeps pack relations on better terms. At least that's the canned answer. Personally, I think it's just a massive pissing contest to sort out the dominance ranking among them."

Emma did an odd little giggle and snort, causing Killian's smirk to expand into a full grin. "Ok, ok. So Granny is a badass. What does that have to do with Walsh?"

Ruby was the first to break the stare down with Graham. "Nothing directly, but it's rare to be a female wolf period. To be like Granny is an anomaly. An independent female wolf in 1940's London? She was either strong like Granny, or a well-kept secret."

Graham resumed his lead of the room, "I didn't dig too far into that woman, just that she had been changed around the same time the Colonies revolted, and was put down sometime in the 1980's by Council decree."

Killian perked up. "Council decree means it was a sanctioned hit. Which means paperwork. I might be able to track down more information on her. Give me two days; I'll have more of a lead for you then."

Graham nodded, "Good. Now, what to do with Emma here?"

Emma sat up straighter, "Hey…"

They ignored her.

Killian broke in. "Keeping her here isn't an option anymore. Not in the building, not in the city. Too many civilian eyes and ears. Too many cameras. Too many sides to cover… it's a strategical nightmare. And frankly Humbert, your Pack House isn't much better. You have humans currently housed there, there's the fallout risk to the pack, and with this 'Grandmother' figure to worry about, who knows what is in Walsh's corner."

Emma turned on him, "I'm not–"

But the men paid her no mind.

Graham huffed, "I suppose you have a better idea?"

Killian grinned, "Of course. I own property in Maine. A farmhouse by conventional means; made a panic room out of what looked like an old storm cellar."

Graham's brows knit together, "In whose territory?"

"Brookside Pack I believe."

Graham and Ruby spoke at once, "Snow's pack?"

Killian chuckled, "I do believe David is the designated Alpha, but yes. I've taken the liberty in sending along a message denoting I might be residing in their lines with a human female soon–"

Emma had enough. They were doing it again. She leaned over and picked someone's glass from the coffee table as Killian droned on. Emptying it and clearing her throat, hoping to gain their attention calmly one last time. It didn't work; no one heard her over their own voices, or they simply stopped thinking her capable of her own opinion. She didn't even shift her seated position when she chucked the glass across the room and for it to shatter against the far wall. Three sets of eyes turned stunned looks to her.

She cleared her throat once more. "I hate to rehash old arguments, or complain like a child, but I bolted today because I was being handled. I'm fully aware the situation is worse than I can understand right now. I'm fully aware you all are trying to just keep me alive and safe for whatever reasons you individually have. But I'm wondering if any of _you_ are aware that I have a functioning brain and am fully capable of making informed decisions?"

Killian moved first leaning in close to her as his chair had closed in the last foot of distance. His face the definition of open sincerity, one hand lacing its fingers with her own. "There isn't a chance of any of us ever making those same mistakes Swan. Apologies if it seemed that way. It's an old habit of ours –Humbert and myself– to go bicker over options until some middle ground is found. A habit we should have been more mindful of."

Emma nodded, suddenly embarrassed for her outburst. Of course they couldn't give her the choice until the details had been ironed out and set for her choosing. Graham turned away, disappearing into the kitchen.

Killian rose from his chair and leaned over the arm of the couch to put his mouth to her ear. "Do not mistake me though Emma. Your safety and well-being trumps your agency. If your choice proves to be a dangerous path, I will do whatever is in my power to ensure your survival. I don't mean any disrespect, but this world will become infinitely smaller for us without you in it. And at my age, I'd hate to see it shrink further."

He pulled away slowly, his lips brushing her cheek in a passing kiss. His eyes were steel blue on hers, offering no room to argue. No matter how hard her pride railed against him. She hoped he could smell how much she wanted to haul off and punch him in the face. His mouth quirked up into a knowing smile, treating her like the open book he said she was, indicated he knew exactly what she was thinking. He retook his position in the chair closest to her, revealing Graham kneeling on the floor, studiously cleaning up the shards of broken glass she had created. Also very pointedly ignoring the byplay between the blue-eyed bastard and herself. Emma looked up to Ruby who thumped her chest and mouthed the word "Men." It earned a small breathy laugh from Emma, and the tension broke once more.

When Graham had finished and disposed of his self-appointed chore, he stood center of the room. Staring at his hands, playing with something unseen in them. He looked sideways to Killian, "Do you think Brookside would oppose your being within their boundaries?"

Killian's face fell into contemplation. "I'm not close with either Snow or David, though neither seems mistrustful of me. I don't foresee any issues. You know them Humbert, old world hero types, should they learn of Emma's predicament, they might even try to lend a hand."

Graham nodded. Graham took to his knees in front of Emma, using the tone he reserves for injured animals. "I need you to watch Emma."

He held up one hand, showing a large shard of glass held between his thumb and fingers. He held up his other hand, an empty and open palm, stabbing it with the glass. His face didn't change, showing no sign of pain. The shard was dragged down through his flesh, blood pooling at the wound and spilling to the ground. The skin peeled away from itself, displaying the red meat underneath. Emma felt her stomach turn and fear choke her. In morbid horror, she watched, unable to look away. The blood clotted, forming a scab over a gash that by normal standards would need stitches to close properly. The scab settled for a minute before it began to dry up and crack. Small bits that looked far too much like artificial bacon began flaking off, until the scab was entirely gone. Showing the soft and reddish new skin already in place. The entire show taking less than three minutes.

"In another few hours, even that scar will be gone. Wolves heal faster than people do. You need to know this if you have to square off with Walsh. You might be able to damage him, but it'll be short lived. I'm trusting Killian to show you later how to properly kill a werewolf. Now, Walsh won't heal as fast as I do. I am Alpha. When I need to, I can draw on the strength of my pack to heighten my own abilities. But Walsh will still be able to handle pain and injuries better than you will." Graham sighed, turning to look at Killian again. "Swear to me that if you can't hold at your place, you send word here and get her to Brookside Manor."

Killian bowed his head slightly, "Ar mo onóir."

Emma took the injured hand, running her fingers along the scar. She knew next to nothing of their world, but she was fairly certain Graham just broke a handful of rules to show her a glimpse of it. She bent her head, giving his wound a kiss. "Did you just make the decision for me again Graham?"

"Not remotely. I'm merely siding with Killian's idea. I know the packs up there, if I send my word along to corroborate with his, they'll provide back up and extra help if this gets more violent than it is. You _won't_ be alone. You are more than welcome to my Pack House, but he's right there too. We don't know who is pulling Walsh's strings yet, the humans I have housed there will be at risk."

Emma brought her head up finally. "Do you trust him?"

"About as far as _you_ could throw him. But I trust his instincts, especially where you're concerned. Just took me a bit longer to see them for what they were."

Emma looked over at Killian. His face was a hard mask, his jaw ticking off a mile a minute. "Agus cad iad go díreach leis na instincts _chara_?"

Graham looked shocked. "Níl a fhios aici go bhfuil tú i ngrá léi?"

"Níl mé."

Graham popped an eyebrow, but quit talking. Emma chimed in, "You know, when in the company of others, it's rude to speak in a language not everyone knows? I heard the word ‘instincts’, what are his instincts that you misread Graham?"

He didn't speak, only rose to his feet, bringing Emma to hers. "That's for him to say. But perhaps this isn't the best time with everything going on." He looked back to her, "Your choice Emma?"

"You know I won't risk people getting caught up in this. Do you trust this other pack at… what was it? Brookside Manor?"

"Implicitly."

"Fine. When do we leave?"

"Well, if Killian could sit tight one more day, I might be able to pull a few favors and get you two some cover and a head start."

Emma glanced down at Killian. His jaw was still ticking off, his body rigid, looking nowhere in particular. He made no move to answer, giving Emma the option to make this call too. "Done."

* * *

Emma returned to Killian's door a few hours after they had all dispersed. It was unlocked and slightly ajar like the last time; she let herself in again, not standing on ceremony by knocking. He was standing at the dining rooms windows; watching god knows what. The place was dark except for the glow of the city lights filtering in. Graham's words ringing in the air around her, more secrets concerning her that they weren't planning on sharing. Killian had been reserved after Graham's confession, holding back from general conversation, even restraining against the simple touches she had grown used to. There were implications, possibilities too obvious to ignore, as much as she would love to do just that. But dramatic shifts in personality and habits worried her more, and if she was going to be heading off with only him to depend on, she didn't have room to doubt him. She knew Killian was aware of her in his home, though he remained unmoving; still she waited. Something in the earlier exchange had upset him, and Emma wasn't looking to make matters worse by badgering him into answers.

"Do you trust me Emma?"

She startled at his sudden words. But her response took no thought. "Yes."

He turned, "Why?"

She shifted on her feet. "Haven't we had this conversation already?"

His head tilted. "Not as such. Will you not tell me?"

"I could, but I think the better question is why it matters if I do or not. I'm complying with all of this, I trust you. 'Why' isn't important."

A sad smile turned his mouth up as he hummed in response. His hands clasped behind his back as he returned to his window's view. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him why, Emma simply didn't know how to put it into words. She hadn't even been thinking about it, avoiding whatever it was by hiding behind their circumstances. There were moments where she convinced herself it was only a crush on the man helping save her life. It took waking up next to Killian just that same morning for her feelings to sort out and only then did Emma know them for what they were, and why they were the wrong things to feel. Not that it mattered what she felt, or what they might become. He would leave when this ended, he would have to. Nothing good stays. A spark of rebellion burned through her head, a small part of her unwilling to accept this conclusion.

He moved faster than she could keep up with, standing in front of her before the next breath came. "Something upset you. What's wrong?"

Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, resembling a nervous grimace more. "Just thinking. Doesn't matter, no worries."

Killian frowned, looming further in her space. "It _always_ matters Emma."

Her eyes searched his, desperate to find the flaw or the lie; something for her to doubt. But she only found him, eager for her trust. The spark flared again behind her eyes.

Emma tipped up on her toes, landing her lips on his. She could feel him stiffen and hesitate, waiting for her to pull away. Her mouth moved, catching his bottom lip between hers. Killian inhaled deep through his nose, his arms circling around her torso. Her hands slid to his shoulders for balance, and the world tilted beneath them, fading away. What was slow and tentative, careened into needy and hungry in the span of a breath. A hand cradled the base of her skull, fingers tugging on her hair. A hand fisted tight to his shirt, scratching through the fabric to the skin underneath. Their heads angled and their bodies swayed; instinct pulling at them both. Their feet moved; the hard woodwork of the bedroom doorway bit into Emma's back. She arched away, only to press into the immovable work named Killian. Bodies lined up; Emma whimpered, Killian groaned. His arm shot out, gripping the woodwork next to her head before he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead on hers, nuzzling his nose to hers. Emma's lungs burned and she ached in places she shouldn't.

"That was…" His voice was pained. His lips embraced hers once more, tugging on her upper lip before letting her breathe again.

Emma's phone chirped off, sounding reality's return to the apartment. Killian growled, taking her phone from her front pocket. Her breath catching as his fingers brushed unnecessarily under the hem of her shirt. Another growl and Killian was kissing her again. Hand and phone sliding around her waist to press at her lower back, encouraging their hips to mold into each other. The phone chirped again and it was Emma who managed to pull away, grabbing for her stolen phone.

"It's Ruby… wants to know when I'll be home."

Killian sighed, dropping his head to the crook of her neck; his nose buried itself in her skin. "And your answer?"

"I should go. Plenty to do tomorrow before you steal me away to your home in the woods."

He nodded, breathing her in as he lifted his head. "Aye."

But he stayed as he was, with their hips pinned together and an arm braced out next to her head. His eyes flew over her face, looking for heaven knows what. The wood creaked and pieces fell as Killian released his grip of it, brushing the same fingers down the side of her face. Emma watched as crystalline blue faded into the white that marked his wolf. He kissed her a final time. Gentle if only for the slight nipping at her top lip. It was brief in comparison, but Emma felt it to her toes all the same. When he pulled away, he did so with a full step away from her.

She left without saying more to him; he had answered her questions without having to ask them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: See? Crimes against the beauty of CS. I swear I won't make y'all suffer through that again. Also, a new venue. Not the last we'll see of Ruby and Graham either. Killian's and Graham's conversation was translated using Google Translate: English to Irish. It's not important to the story on a whole if you aren't keen on looking it up though.


	14. Bait and Switch

**Chapter 13:**

**Bait and Switch**

* * *

Emma avoided breakfast with everyone, declaring laundry duties before their trip could go anywhere. Not thinking about the Irishman that kissed her within an inch of her clothing's life; both as the man in charge, and as the wolf. Nor did she pay attention to the tingling sensation on her lips every time she most certainly _did not_ remember. Packing became lunch's excuse, even though she had done the bulk of that as the laundry progressed. So to fill up the time, Emma stole into Ruby's place to grab what things she had left behind there. A pink-striped white rose sat blooming and lonely on the dining table. Emma ignored it for the most part, darting between the rooms gathering the things she probably wouldn't need in the middle of the forestry nowhere, giving the flower mistrustful glances on each pass. He had all but told her he gave roses to every date he went on, hers wasn't special, just a dying flower given on a false date. Emma shook her head. She had only known him a couple weeks. It was nothing more than lustful crushes fueled by a gentleman saving her ass. It would pass, and so would he.

Emma stood with her belongings in her arms, giving the rose another rueful look, cursing the small part of her being that viewed the rose as something hopeful.

(The rose was taken back to her place in the end, placed in a small cigar box containing all the other things that once held hope too.)

* * *

_**C–** _

_**Taking human female to safe house near Brookside. Containment in New York impossible. Target's fixation sure to draw him to an easily breachable location. Target has unknown accomplice. Discovery of said accomplice imminent. Disposal of human female post capture not advisable. Granny emotionally involved. Alpha One of New York Trinity Packs emotionally involved. Retaliation high. Recommending Change, or integration into NYTP or Brookside Pack.** _

– _ **Captain**_

Killian sent the missive to his handler, hoping it was enough to continue her absence from the case, Gods willing his inbox as well. He was missing breakfast, but there were leftovers from last night's feast if he needed the distraction of masticating. He prayed Emma didn't take his absence as personally as he would. He could feel his wolf pulling at the restraints, knowing exactly why the wolf was agitated and unsettled, but unable to indulge its demands this time. More than once that morning, the wolf within caused Killian to swear at the walls about shite timing. Caused him to scream at the furniture that what his blasted wolf was trying to attain wasn't possible. He sounded like a madman, arguing a primal pull with inanimate objects just to force this entity to listen, but there wasn't any other way to behave when half of your being was dragging you down a path that only ends in torment. Not that he wasn't currently tormented. Killian had been hard pressed last night to find a place to rest after she left. His sheets heavy with her scent, he fought the urge to rub and roll in them; to wrap himself in what was left of her. His bathtub wasn't an option with memories of her naked flesh too easily accessed. His kitchen was the only place her scent hadn't invaded; it was also the one place without any viable sleeping platforms. Sleep had proven fleeting when Killian opted for crashing on the couch. Emma's scent was faint, but there regardless; as well as the view of his mangled doorframe, causing the kiss to replay over and over throughout the night.

In this moment however, he sat, staring at his computer screen. Lost in his wolf's efforts of hauling him through the replay of the previous night… again. Her scent filling his senses as if summoned, her absent body bowing to his. The lost tones in her voice as she declared that her own thoughts were of no consequence echoing in the ether. The fire that kept rising within her, and against her, heating the skin on his hands. Killian shook his head to clear his mind, rubbing his hands over his face. Feeling for the first time in centuries well and truly buggered. Once more, doing his level best to restrain his wolf from seeking out the Swan, he dove into the basic responsibilities needed to make the farmhouse as hospitable as possible; having all amenities turned on, alerting the grocer to a delivery of foods and toiletries. Somewhere in the slough of mundane tasks, inspiration struck and he opened his e-mail again.

_**R–** _

_**Oi Mate. Case has me in the boundaries of Brookside Pack in the next night. Details of it have me in need of your ancient mind as what I need originated in your birth town. I, unfortunately, have to dedicate tomorrow night to dropping in on the Nolan's for announcements and politics. Swing through the farmstead any time after?** _

– _ **KJ**_

Killian wasn't sure the old man would receive the note in time, or at all. Fortune not only smiled, but delivered early with interest.

_**KJ–** _

_**Will be at the same affair, how convenient. Not in trouble again are you?** _

– _ **R**_

Killian wasn't sure what the scheduled affair his friend was referring to, but a boon was a boon. He didn't answer the posted question; there would be enough time to talk later. Midday was arriving, his stomach was howling, and there was only so much he could avoid.

(He wasn't the only one avoiding, and after Ruby's far too knowing glances, Killian began some very childish internal monologues to his wolf.)

* * *

Graham returned in the early evening with a text demanding the four of them convene in the back surgical room immediately. Emma was first to arrive –though she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not– and chose to stand in the corner that shared the same wall as the door. Graham and Killian came in within steps of each other a few minutes later, both heads snapping to her direction. For the first time, Emma followed Granny's rules as close to the letter as she could remember, ducking her head to avoid eye contact and studying the stitching patterns on her shoes. They maintained their distance quietly, though not so far as to let the other get closer, leaving Emma to herself as they all awaited Ruby. Each second notched the tension to up, becoming increasingly awkward for Emma and vicious for them as the time dragged on. The men were dancing slightly on their feet and issuing soft growls by the time Ruby strolled in. There was a heartbeat of silence and then a stool was dragged across the floor and placed in front of Emma's legs, Ruby plopped herself down on it, bodily blocking Emma from whatever animalistic battle the men were heading towards. Emma saw nothing overly different, (her shoes had grown incredibly interesting as the time had ticked on) but whatever Ruby had done silenced Graham and Killian completely. The very air lifted away from Emma and she felt able to breathe deep once more; suppressing the urge to do just that. Ruby leaned back just enough to pat the outside of Emma's hip, grab for the belt loops, and pull Emma in closer. This wasn't anything new from Ruby, Emma had experienced the move many times working in the diner and later hoping bars. Ruby was calling dibs. Usually, Emma played up the act, leaning in and draping herself all over Ruby's shoulders and enjoying the smug look that would shape Ruby's face as lust replaced hope in men's eyes; lust was always easier to manage and redirect. Chancing a look, Emma saw both men enjoying the photographs on the walls. Lust wasn't in play here, this was territory, and neither man knew what role they played in Emma-land. Hell, Emma didn't know what role those men played, not unless she would be willing to admit what roles she wanted them to play. Instead, Emma studied the new shades of auburn and red Ruby had color weaved into her hair.

"Are we good now?" Graham's voice came tight and clipped.

No one spoke. It was a full minute and another pat on the hip from Ruby that clued Emma in that the question was directed to her. Emma's first attempt at words came out strangled, so she cleared her throat, and tried again. "Yes, we're good." (But even that sounded far too meek and breathy for Emma's liking.)

"Straight to it then, I called in a favor from an associate of mine. He had to call in a couple favors of his own to pull it off so I'm hoping this works." Graham held up two small glass bottles. Both containing what looked like water. "He told me I would need two strands of hair from both of you."

Killian huffed, "Mind giving the whole story Humbert? Some of us don't live in your head."

"Can't keep up? All right then, these glass bottles are potions-"

Killian's head tilted back in a plea for strength at Graham's condescending tones and Emma couldn't quite hide the hope in her voice as she interrupted. "Potions? Like Harry Potter?"

Graham snickered, knowing where her mind had already gone. "Not quite-"

"Wait… you called in _that_ favor?" Ruby didn't sound pleased with Graham.

"It was the best option. Besides, one less Fae to deal with later. Now, Ruby and I will drink these when we're all ready to leave. Ruby and I will leave first, driving Emma's Bug towards Boston. Hopefully grabbing that freak's attention so he follows us. Emma, you and Killian give us an hour, then take my truck and head to the safe house."

"But he won't see me getting into the Bug. He won't follow the car if I'm not in it."

"That's what these vials are for. Two hairs per vial, Ruby will drink Emma's; I get to drink Killian's. It'll make us look enough like you two to confuse Walsh. This way you can get straight to Brookside without trouble, and if he catches on sooner than we like, you guys will already be closer to Brookside Pack for added protection." He looked to Killian, "I'll be signaling David after you guys send me the all clear and he'll be expecting your visit or call within nine of that. Any later, and we'll assume the worst happened and come looking. Stick to the main roads as much as you can, even if you have to bail the truck." Graham pointed to Emma without taking his eyes from the Loner. "Leave _her_ scent marker as much as you can, our wolves will track those first. If the distraction works however, send us a text once an hour till you get there. If in five days you haven't killed Walsh, Ruby and I will be heading up."

Graham stepped forward only enough to place the vial for the women on the examination table in the middle of the room.

Emma looked to Killian. His body was still turned away, studying that damned picture again, or so he made it seem. She focused on the reflective glass, and there he was, watching her; a soft smile quirking his mouth when their eyes met. She wouldn't ask him outright if he thought this was a good idea –lord knows what the two men would get into after that– and it wasn't that she didn't trust Graham's plan, Emma simply didn't feel comfortable making a call for both of them without at least giving him a chance to weigh in. So she tilted her head towards the table with the little glass bottle, working a quick uplift of her eyebrow. His shoulders tensed a moment before he jerked his head down in a quick nod. He wasn't sure of it either, but willing to give it a shot. Emma ducked her head one more time.

_What the hell… not like I have to drink the stuff._

Emma gave Ruby's hair a double tug, earning a double tap on her thigh. Ruby was in too. Emma looked to Killian one more time looking for some sort of assurance, but the predator look was in his eyes now, and the bite he was issuing his bottom lip wasn't conveying anything relevant to the current silent conversation. Her own lip stung in a physical memory of him doing the same thing to her, which helped even less with the problem at hand. Emma tried to give him as much of an exasperated look without letting the other two in on their byplay, but Graham cleared his throat and Emma looked anywhere else but Killian; her skin burning in a blush.

_So much for covert…._

Ruby rose, picking up the vial. "How soon does it take effect and how long will it last?"

Graham shook his head with a shrug of his shoulders. "Should take no more than a few minutes to set in, and no more than an hour till it's gone. We'll hold off until it's time. We'll hold off on adding the hair as well, just for certainty."

Emma shrugged. "I'm already all packed. Killian?"

"I'm set as well."

Ruby broke in, "Well I'm not ready to let her go just yet. And I'm sure Granny would like to say a goodbye or three." She grabbed Emma's hand, "C'mon, girl time before I drink down _Essence of Emma_."

The men groaned as Emma was pulled from the back room.

* * *

"I'd beg them to stop, but I don't think I could do it without lying." Killian carded his fingers through his hair, sniggering at the females' antics.

Graham stood, hands on hips watching Killian. They would probably never be more than cordial acquaintances, and never actually in the same pack, but Graham tried to view him as another pack member rather than a rival. It was new and odd, but Graham was feeling pity for the Loner. He knew parts of Killian's life, tidbits given via Ruby and Granny when Graham asked. Killian was older, and had lost his family as a human long before his Change and been denied Pack life since. A human without people in that time might have survived, but a wolf without Pack usually went mad if they lived even a quarter as long as Killian. The rumors of Loners like Killian gaining mates were cautionary tales told to Changelings as reasons to stay in Pack; stories of wolves locking their mates away in bunkers and the like to protect them from retaliations of The Council's orders, or other general threats that Pack protection could stave off. The signs were obvious that Killian's wolf was fixating on Emma; Graham did have functioning senses, no matter what Quinn teased. It was also obvious Killian was trying to reel in his wolf's need for a mate, which would only result in a spilt of wolf and man; something that could be fatal if not dealt with quickly. For everyone's sake, and for the hundredth time that day alone, Graham checked his instincts. He had smelled Emma and Killian on each other ever since he returned, scented the mutual arousals when they bantered. And if he guessed right, something happened only just last night. ( _Both skipping breakfast with half-baked excuses, might as well have worn sandwich boards declaring themselves out on Times Square._ ) He felt protection for Emma in this situation, of course he did. He loved her. Everything from Walsh to Killian's timing bothered him; this was Emma. _His_ Emma. Graham felt the possessive and the protective, but none of the jealously. A confusing turn since he knew he felt the green-eyed monster with Killian that first night down in the diner with Ruby…

_Jesus, Mary, and…_

Killian growled softly. Graham let the sensations of revelations and emotions roll over him and fuel the strength he needed to say what was coming. "I love Emma, Killian."

Killian's shoulders tensed up, and the growling touched up in volume. He didn't turn around, keeping his back vulnerable to Graham. A move only testifying to Killian's absolute self-control.

"I love her and that won't ever end. You know as well as I that Pack bonds have existed longer than the legalities and ceremonies we use now. Emma is my Pack and I'm going to love and care for her no matter how much she pushes me off, or where life takes her. I've messed up recently, going over my boundaries with her, and that's my problem. I was reacting; using what happened after Neal as a guide."

Killian half turned, looking over his shoulder, eyebrow high on his forehead.

"A story I will bring you in on once Emma clears it." Graham continued on, "Emma Swan is my Pack. But she is not my mate."

Surprise took Killian's features instead of the open hostility he had been wearing, turning fully to face Graham. "Come again?"

"Don't misunderstand me. I still hate the idea of you two doing anything remotely…" Graham shuddered, "…just _no_. But for her sake and our adrenaline levels, I don't want Emma as a mate."

Killian gave a slow nod, letting Graham's words hang in the air. Graham half expected a tirade of innuendos and salacious looks, but all Killian gave him was a sad silence. One he broke, eventually, with a deep breath. "I wrote my handler. I informed her of the basics, where we'll be, and the possibility of a second entity. I also told her that disposal of Emma would be a problem. That both you and Granny would be provoked against The Council, dragging along who knows how many wolves with you. I recommended the Change, or immediate integration into one of the Trinity Packs or up in Brookside."

Stunned, Graham dropped his arms. "Integration would mean marriage, Killian."

Killian lowered his gaze for the first time in Graham's presence. "I'm aware."

Graham stuttered, "Marriage to someone in _that_ Pack."

Killian rolled his eyes heavenward, striding to the other side of the room. "I said I was aware, _Alpha_. As I'm aware that she won't take to being forced into said marriage. I'm even aware that she might not survive the Change either." He spun around, glowering nothing specifically. "But would you be able to stomach The Council's disposal of her? Because _I_ can't. You lot all but begged me and demanded of me to keep her alive; this is the answer."

If Graham weren't already suspect of Killian's feelings, that outburst would have been enough. They might never be able to be friends, but Graham wouldn't doubt the man's loyalties ever again.

Killian paced in his spot. "There is one more thing Humbert. Something about the way Walsh has been behaving lately is different. His words aren't his own half the time, like he's mimicking someone else. Probably this Grandmother he spoke of. I've been hunting him for a couple of months, and this is new. But it's not… it's familiar at the same time, and I can't pinpoint why. I'm going to forward you everything I have, maybe a new set of eyes and instincts will see what I cannot."

"I thought you already gave me everything?"

"I gave you enough. Names, locations, credit card numbers… I have more. Give me an hour as I keep a hefty bulk of it in paper format. It'll contain missives from my handler and The Council; I don't believe I need to stress the importance of discretion?"

Graham made a rude sound and cocked a brow. He was an Alpha dammit; he knew a thing or two about keeping The Council sated and ignorant of reality.

Killian smiled, knowing exactly what Graham had been thinking. "Right then. One hour. Meet the girls after, yeah?"

Graham spit in his hand, "Done."

Killian spit in his own, clasping Graham's. An accord between two Irishmen is stronger than any Fae promise.

* * *

Ruby watched Emma as they walked away from the men. She, of course, had a slew of questions for Emma. Why she came back smelling like a woman in heat _and_ Killian, why they both skipped breakfast, what changed overnight that Emma was acting submissive rather than staring down both men and bringing them to heel; for starters. But it would take up more time than they had, and Ruby wasn't about to fill that time with probing questions and awkward answers. If nothing else, Ruby had caught Killian's slight communication with Emma in the reflection of the picture's glass. Killian's eyes were on Emma even when Emma wasn't looking for him; it was enough to assure herself that Emma would be ok. They walked right passed Ruby's door, down the hall to the only other occupied apartment on the floor. Emma gave Ruby a look of shock, knowing where they were going. Ruby only shrugged the reaction away. The floor still held the many doors of what used to be many apartments, but Granny had only kept them to confuse the folks who were simply passing through. None of the extra doors opened anymore, not from the outside anyway. Shortly after the Great Depression, when jobs were few and far between, Granny pulled every man, woman, and child who ate at the diner and couldn't pay for the meal or drink up to this floor to work. Construction, painting, cleaning… whatever was needed and was able to be done by the individual. Granny told them they were working off the bill they had raised, all the while slipping some cash in a purse or coat pocket when the person was busy. The result was Ruby's apartment roughly 1400 square feet, and the rest of the floor belonging to Granny.

Inside resembled an old cottage. Aged hardwood floors scratched and dinged instead of a high gloss. Cushioned seating and area rugs everywhere. Furniture was handcrafted, all made of wood there too. Cabinets and shelving sported framed photos from as far back as when photos were taken and knick-knacks of every ancient and kitschy variety. Blankets knitted by the old woman herself were found thrown over the backs of seating or folded just about anywhere. The woman had even figured out how to keep a fireplace when the world wanted to switch to radiators. Warm colors, soft fabrics, sturdy woods. It was Granny displayed as interior design. Inviting as it was, no one visited it often; it was Granny's space. As Ruby understood it, Granny's temperament lost its balance the older she became. More and more often, she needed to retreat into her haven or chance losing her grip on both her wolf and reality. The ordeal with Emma had just about forced the woman into isolation; suffering the guilt of not helping over chancing the bloodshed she could inflict on the wrong person. Now Emma had to leave altogether, pushing Granny's state into something frightening. The wolf desperate to protect, the human desperate to stay rational and in control. Ruby could only hope to which version they were walking in on. They stopped at the proper door, Ruby knocking a clipped three knocks before cracking the door. Granny was cooking something in the kitchen, something warm and smelling of chicken. Emma's stomach rumbled next to Ruby, and the potpie suddenly made sense. It was a good sign. If Granny was able to cook, and cook with meat, then she was having a good day.

"Emma girl, if you don't your rear-end in my kitchen and eat something now, I'm scalping your hair as my next wig."

Emma's eyes went wide and her eyebrows met her hairline as she mouthed "Scalping".

"Yes. Scalping. Want to test me?" Granny's disembodied voice reached them again, laced with humor Ruby was sure Emma missed.

Emma made her long strides to the kitchen, rounding the corner long before Ruby did. A muffled "oof!" bringing a smile to her lips, knowing Emma fell for Granny's trap yet again. Emma had only become moderately affectionate with Ruby and Graham in the recent years, but Granny was an authority figure that Emma minded –if not avoided. Granny (not one who enjoyed being avoided) would keep just out of eye line, seemingly cross with Emma, waiting for Emma to come barreling in –hoping to bypass a scolding. Instead, Granny would catch Emma in a hug, not letting go until Emma relaxed and hugged back. Ruby slowed her steps, giving them time together, and when Ruby came upon them, she smiled wider. Emma was already embracing Granny –a new record to be sure.

Granny was chortling, "You have a healing hug child; you should use that power more often."

Emma made a snorting sound, pulling away enough to look at the old woman. "Free hugs in New York? Never gonna happen."

Granny's laugh upgraded to a full bark, "God girl, I didn't say hand them out! Not that I would judge if you did, I was here during the 60's and 70's. 80's taught them that lesson though. Ok, I might judge you. But I wouldn't love you less." Granny leaned in, sniffing Emma's neck. "Though it seems you've beaten me to the punch. Been hugging on a dark-haired Irishman have you? The one with bright blue eyes?"

Emma blushed a deep red, trying to take another step away from Granny. She was allowed, if only to give Granny the room to poke at a few of Emma's ribs and boop her nose.

The women gathered at the table, all within an arm's reach of each other, speaking of nothing overly important. The potpie was enjoyed, and the extra packed up for Emma and Killian for the trip. Ruby had wanted the time to needle Emma, all while reclining on the bed, holding the girl Ruby should have stolen long before she showed up dirty and hungry. But this wasn't something she would trade either. Idle time as a family is a treasure many overlook as nothing of consequence. But it's those moments you take with you in the end: a smile, a smell, the way their hair looked in the sun, the sound of their voice as they ramble on excitedly over something. Ruby knew she'd see Emma again, felt it deep through her own soul to that of her wolf's. They'd have more moments like these once everything was over. Didn't mean Ruby wouldn't horde away every single one that came along.

A text from Graham signaled the end, Granny's face falling into a grim look. "Don't move; I have something for you."

The old woman disappeared into one of her many rooms down a small maze of hallways, returning from a different direction entirely, holding a knapsack filled with heaven knows what. "I put this together for you, just a few things. Wait until you're set up at the farmhouse to peek through. I don't need you doubling back just to blubber on my shoulder. Ruby, grab their food." Granny grabbed Emma's chin in her hand, meeting her sage green with pale gold. "You listen well. You come home. I don't care what you have to do, or who you have to kill, don't you dare make me come after you. Things get messy, stay by Killian. Man or wolf, he'll keep you safe. You hear me?"

Emma nodded as much as she was able. "Yes Ma'am."

Ruby gave her Granny a dubious look. The old bat was up to something again, and being cryptic to boot. A man might have his wits about him, but a wolf runs on instinct. Killian's control over his wolf was extraordinary to be modest, but if he lost that control?

Ruby shook her head, too little time to sort out the old woman or her intentions. Another round of hugs, a peck on the cheek, and Ruby was escorting Emma back to the surgical room.

* * *

Entering the room again, Emma noticed the tension between the men had all but dissolved, their conversation easy and bodies relaxed.

_As if everything else wasn't already confusing…_

Graham waited until the girls had settled before commanding the room again. "Alright, we need to make a show of this. We want that bastard's attention. As soon as the glamour's are in place, Ruby, I want you to get to Emma's car; act pissed off or something; you know the face she makes. Pull out into traffic, but time it so you have to slam the brakes to avoid hitting someone. I'll rush out and force myself into the car. We'll argue a bit, and then we'll make our way to Boston. Emma? Killian? Give us one hour, then get the devil out of here. Keep in touch every forty-five minutes. I expect an email every night. If nothing is resolved in five days, Ruby and I are heading up. Any questions?"

No one spoke, so Graham continued on. "Good. Ruby, you drink first since you have to be out there before anyone else."

Ruby pouted, "Why do I get to be the guinea pig?"

Graham gave her an impatient face, "Because if it doesn't work on you, then the rest doesn't matter."

"Alright, alright."

Ruby tugged two strands from Emma's head, sinking them into the vial. The water shimmered and flexed, blazing opalescent hues of green and blue; settling into its water like appearance once more. Ruby cocked her head briefly to the side, regarding it with resigned regret. The potion was slammed back like a shot of tequila; judging by Ruby's face, it didn't taste any better than tequila either. They waited: one heartbeat, two, three. It was there in that blink between the third and fourth beats that Ruby became Emma. Hair, face, even clothing.

The real Emma glanced to Graham. "I thought you said it wasn't like Harry Potter? That's Polyjuice Potion, if there ever was." Killian snickered, causing Emma to shoot him a smile.

_At least he thinks I'm funny… still._

Ruby stood, siding up right next to Emma. "Screw Hogwarts. You know how much money twins get in the Industry? And we wouldn't have any of that pesky copy DNA making it weird."

"No Rubles, you're doing that just fine all on your own." Killian was still laughing, even though he had shifted his gaze anywhere but on the women.

Graham cleared his throat. "Go on then Ruby. I'll be five minutes."

Ruby smacked a kiss to Emma's cheek (Because her day wasn't surreal enough right now.) Rushing out to play the part of "Angry Emma". Graham strode over, plopping another kiss on the opposite cheek.

"No way in hell am I kissing you wearing that idiot's face." His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the apple of it. "Stay alive. Listen to Killian as much as you can without killing him."

Emma smiled. "No promises. Stay safe?"

"You first." He brushed a kiss to her forehead before backing away.

Killian held out his hand, two hairs pinched between his fingers. "Come on then Humbert. Time to let me be in you."

Graham reached out and smacked Killian's shoulder, not that it dislodged Killian's grin at all. The bottle shimmered and blazed, Graham choked and grimaced. Emma counted to three again, and then there were two Kilian's' standing in front of her.

She hummed. "I'm starting to understand the appeal to that twin idea…"

The Killian that was Graham looked disgusted. The Killian that was True popped a brow, laughing with her. Graham left on a huff, starting the sixty-minute countdown for the trip to Brookside.

* * *

Ruby felt she should win a Tony for her performance on the street, though the people who would have been the most appreciative weren't there to witness it; Ruby had Emma's scowl and barking tones down to perfection. It wasn't till Ruby and Graham were outside New York City limits before they broke character.

"You think he followed?"

Graham nodded. "There's a motorbike following, picked us up a block away from our little show."

The first hour ticked slowly on, the first text coming dead on time. Graham let out a heavy breath. "They're out, taking the 87 up to Albany and cutting over. No tails noticed yet."

Ruby grinned with Emma's face. The potion was lasting longer than they thought. "Still can't believe you called in that favor with Merrick. You've been holding onto that one for ages now."

"Please Ruby, for Emma? We both know you'd sell your soul to a Fairy Queen."

Ruby snorted. "For Emma? I'd sell my soul to a Fairy Queen, sign my blood away to a Hive Queen, all while meeting Granny in the eyes."

Graham nodded. "To start."

"To start."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Right so: I used Rockland, Maine as a point of reference for where the “Storybrooke” Brookside Pack would be. From New York City, it's roughly a seven-hour drive, directly. Though they won't be taking a straight shot there, but that's next chapter. Hive Queen would be the leader of an established Vampire “pack”. I won't be bringing Vampires in this story as any recurring characters; lord knows I'm barely getting away with this as it is.   
> Cath: I hope you don't mind that I continue to use Merrick. Hell I don’t know if you’ve caught on that I’m trying this again.


	15. White Eyes on a Black Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posterity Note: I had originally planned to skip the drive up and pick up with them already at the farmhouse. Save me a chapter of unnecessary writing and y'all a chapter of unnecessary reading. But noooooooo. Oh no, SOMEONE had to go and mention "7+ hours of shenanigans." So you can all lynch her for this bit. Her screen name is Onceuponataarna. And since this chapter was her fault, I named it for her fic, "White Light on a Black Sea" (rated E). Featured here on Ao3, FFnet, and her tumblr. (For those of you waiting for chapter 29 of her fic, she wrote it a long ass time ago and put it on FFnet and Tumblr. Silly lady forgot her password here on Ao3.) I encourage those of you who like smutty goodness to go read. Like stop reading this and go read that.

**Chapter 14:**

**White Eyes on a Black Night**

* * *

_ Hour One: _

For the first time in Killian's absurdly long life, he was thankful for the minor traffic they encountered exiting the city. It gave him the plausible excuse to keep silent, taking full advantage of the concentration required to make lane changes and to ignore the blinding glare of high beams used by incompetent drivers. Anything to distract him from the way the city lights danced on Emma's skin in a kaleidoscope begging him to watch. She reminded him of a cat on the edge of a pond; holding herself as still as death and keeping a focused vigil out the windows to who knows what. He didn't prompt her into talking; he wouldn't know what to talk about anyway. The likelihood that he would blurt out something thoughtless was far too high, or worse yet, something crass about Ruby's transformation. Both options would only end up with him losing his wits in his embarrassment and possibly thanking Emma for the kiss she gave him the night before.

It hadn't escaped Killian either that while he was centuries old, Emma had reduced his brain to that of a green lad courting his first girl.

The exasperation he felt towards himself however, was slowly dwarfed by her anxiety, steadily increasing as the buildings disappeared. He assumed at first that Emma's tension was nothing more than residual nervous energy, built up with her dramatically altered life changing yet again; right up until the moment her breath became even. Not the simple act of the mind maintaining the lungs during sleep, no… her breathing was three seconds in, three seconds out. Counted and calculated as she was forcing herself to breathe as normally as possible. He glanced her way, watching the counts tick off in her head. In: _one, two three._ Out: _one, two, three._

_She's trying to hide it from me…_ "Swan? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine." Her voice soft, almost absent in spite of her state.

Killian felt the growl in his chest, irritation quick to the surface. "It's a long drive Swan, and we'll be in each other's company exclusively for the better part of who knows how long. I suggest _against_ starting the journey with lies."

She sighed. "Yeah, forgot." She took her first deep breath in ten miles. "This is my first time out of New York in a long time."

"How long?"

"Not long enough…"

Killian chanced a look again. Her eyes were miles away once more, her face a sad acceptance, echoing a moment on his couch little less than a fortnight ago.

_Fecking Neal._

* * *

_ Hour Two: _

"Swan, there aren't going to be many local stations the farther we get out. I refuse to listen to the simple-minded pout publicly because the world doesn't fit their narrow view, nor do I wish to be thrown into insanity due to whatever local cultural music station you chance on. Will you just leave it be? Country isn't so bad."

"Seriously? A bunch of men singing about how they lost their woman, lost their truck, and how their dog died, but hey… have another beer?"

"Country music is infinitely more than that. Men _and women_ sing about their love of the land, they mourn the loss of their heart, celebrate the different styles of themselves all while claiming each other as kin. Country can make you cry, make you cheer, and make you laugh."

Emma cocked a brow at him; a country music fan is the last thing she would have pegged him as. "Ok, sure. But _bluegrass_?"

Killian looked over to her, looking completely offended. "Have something against the fiddle Swan?"

She was ignored him, slowly notching the dial to shuffle through the stations, begging the universe for something more her own speed.

_Click_. Static. _Click_. Static. _Click_.

She could feel his frustration climb, watching his grip tighten on the wheel ( _Not a fan of white noise apparently_ ) when a steady electric guitar filtered through and Emma let out a shout of triumph. She settled back in her seat, face lit up in self-satisfaction, as classic rock filled the air. He kept his scowl, trying to maintain his annoyance at her musical mutiny. But his mouth betrayed him, tilting up at the corners as AC/DC's "Big Balls" filled the air; it had that effect on everyone.

"Alright Swan. We'll listen till it fades out. But then it's my turn to pick."

Mischief lit her eyes. "We'll see."

* * *

 

_ Hour Three: _

Killian was swearing in that odd language she had heard from him a few times before.

Red and blue oscillating lights blinded them from behind and made the inside of the truck look like a low-end dance club. This wouldn't be fun. The truck wasn't stolen, but it wasn't theirs, and this was a state trooper possibly bored out of his mind. They hadn't been doing more than five over on an empty highway, but a bored cop means he's looking for just about anything to eat up an hour or two. Depending on the officer's mood, they could be simply held up. Depending on Killian's mood, they might get _locked_ up. Neither option appealed to Emma, so she mulled over ideas and kept an eye on the mirrors while Killian cursed on. He gathered the car insurance ( _Dammit Alpha, where the bloody fuck did you put-_ ), the registration _(…stupid, sodding, backwoods officer too tired of his own right hand-_ ) and dug his back pocket for his wallet. ( _…Bhí mé ar deireadh thiar di calma… damanta l_ _éir a_ _ifreann, bhí sí ag canadh in éineacht… Geallaim ar l_ _éir_ _go bhfuil naofa, beidh mé ag ithe do conablaigh éillithe má thugann tú dom trioblóide._ ) He continued to switch between English and Elvish (until she knew otherwise, he was speaking that language from Lord of the Rings), and Emma continued her vigil of the mirrors. When the trooper exited the vehicle and was in fact male, Emma grinned, this might be fun after all.

She reached out, trying to keep her upper body as still as she could, laying a hand on Killian's thigh. The officer stopped to write down their plate numbers, making a show of checking the taillights. Killian was unmoving –not even a muscle spasm, his tirade silenced with her touch. "Whatever I say Killian, I want you to follow my lead."

Leaning forward, Emma opened the glove box knowing Graham kept a handful of maps of the Northeastern states. Grabbing blindly, she opened it up and made like she was studying it intently. A flashlight backlit Killian's head right before the faint smell of Doritos wafted over from the officer, as he demanded the proper paperwork. Emma heaved a dramatic sigh as Killian handed them over. "I told you to pay better attention. Now we'll never make it to Mother's by morning."

Without missing his beat, Killian rounded on her. "I'm sure your mother will understand getting turned around in the dark whilst avoiding the major highways, especially with you handling the damned map. I told you to write down the directions before we left, but _oh no_! No, _you_ had to try and impress your sister."

_Wow… he's good… that actually stung…_ "Nice. Let's just show the poor officer all our dirty laundry while we're at it, hmm? What do you think _dear_?"

"By all means, _darling_." A mischievous glint lit his eyes. "Tell him every tiny, sordid detail. I'm sure he has nothing better to deal with at the moment. Not _his job_ to do or anything."

The officer hadn't even looked at the papers in his hand yet, so Emma kept the distraction up by pulling him into their bogus argument. "Actually officer? Sir? Would you look at this map and tell my _husband_ please that I didn't get us lost? That the 787 is just ahead?"

The flashlight tilted down to the map and the uniformed man broke into a chuckle. "Actually Ma'am, that's a map of New Hampshire. And the 787 is about seventeen miles in the other direction. You went through Albany maybe twenty minutes ago. Not sure how you missed it."

Killian, still playing his part, turned a murderous glare on Emma. "Yes, _wife_ , please tell us how you missed the bloody capital of the state during _your turn_ behind the wheel?"

Emma played indignant as best she could. "You told me to stay straight! That our exit wasn't for a while yet!"

"Because looking at the road signs declaring 'Welcome to Albany' wasn't enough of a clue?"

"I was paying attention to the traffic around me!"

The officer tried to break in. "Folks–"

But both Killian and Emma had become a little lost in their roles. In unison, they faced the officer, held up their right index fingers, and barked at him. "Wait a minute!"

The officer blinked; stunned for a moment before remembering that he was the one in authority. Fingers between his lips, he blew out a shrill whistle. Emma and Killian startled, turning their bodies back to the driver side window, sharing shocked expressions.

"Good. Ok, Easy enough to get lost when you're using the wrong map." Of which he handed back, including the unchecked information Killian had handed over first. "Another ten miles the way you were going and you'll hit a small town. Fill up; you won't hit Albany on what you have now. See if you can't find the _right_ map while you're there." He turned to Killian, "And see if you can't slow down a hair. I know arguing with the missus can put lead in your feet, but last thing you need is a moose crossing your path after you can't stop."

Killian nodded. "Of course. Thank you officer."

The officer drove off with a wave, leaving them to their feud. Emma giggled. Killian was beaming at her as he scratched that spot behind his ear again. "That was bloody brilliant love. However, Graham arranged for me to be on the insurance. We weren't in any trouble."

"Oh. Still, he could have given trouble just because you were going a little fast and the truck isn't yours. You were upset about being pulled over anyway, I didn't want you wolfing out over some random cop."

He laughed, "I assure you Swan. I won't be 'wolfing out' because some wanker pushes a few buttons. But thanks for the consideration."

Emma felt the blush rush her cheeks; embarrassed, at first, before becoming irritated. "Wait, why didn't you tell me everything was fine? What if that didn't work?"

Killian shrugged. "I wanted to see what you'd do. And if your plan failed, then the moment would have passed with no more than a ticket for speeding. Besides, it was a spot of fun, yeah?"

Emma sat back with a huff. "Let's get going already."

His grin stretched wide. "Yes dear."

* * *

_ Hour Four: _

"How have you lived this long Swan, and haven't seen _Firefly_?" Killian wasn't angry really, but this was virtually a crime and it needed to be remedied. Now.

"Because I didn't have a TV on hand when it was on air?"

"Inexcusable! After the evening at Brookside, we're settling in for a marathon. I cannot live with someone who hasn't experienced Firefly."

Her energy was high, and Killian might have been a touch drunk on it. (If he remembered what being drunk felt like.) She was engaged in the conversation, and not an ounce of her was thinking on her current troubles. It dragged him along, inching his own excitement higher, eager to keep her this way so he might bathe in her sunlight a little longer.

"Won't that take a few days? Or a couple weeks?"

"Nope. Only fourteen episodes and the follow-up movie."

"Fourteen? Was it a miniseries or something?"

"No. It was a glorious work of art that some git at the network shat on. Showed the episodes out of sequence, and then balked at the low ratings. I mean, what did they expect? The viewers couldn't follow the storyline–"

He stopped mid rant when he heard her giggle break. He would have met her teasing's with his own, but she had _that smile_ on again and words failed him.

She pushed slightly on his shoulder, still laughing at him. "You're such a geek."

"Aye, that I am. And you will be too before I hand you back. Firefly first, then we talk _Farscape_."

* * *

_ Hour Five: _

Emma, having turned her body to face him during his ranting's over New Trek versus Original Trek, had fallen asleep. The steady thrum of the tires on old pavement lulled her under, pulling her eyelids closed even as she spoke.

This was a problem.

The deeper she slept, the more her torso leaned over from her side, to his. He tried to adjust her so she was perched back the way she was, but Graham's truck of an older variety that boasted a bucket seat in the cab and not the curved backrests to help keep her in place. His one-handed efforts were half-assed at best, resulting in her continual slide back to him, her head nearly landing in his lap more than once. Not a place she would appreciate waking up and not a place he could handle her being. Resigned, he undid her seatbelt to gather her next to him, arm slung over her shoulders to keep her upright instead of… the other option. The air in his lungs stuttered when she burrowed her face deeper into his chest, murmuring Gods knows what. Another piece of him slipped away as he rested his cheek on the top of her head. Emma might not like his assumption of familiarity either, but his chances were higher if the drool landed on his chest rather than his leg.

It wasn't long before she spun in his hold, facing the back of the seat, and half curled on his side.

* * *

_ Hour Six: _

Emma opened her eyes, not really sure when they had closed and fallen asleep, but it was still dark out and they were still on the highway. She shivered against the cold, reaching over to adjust the heater. But it was off, the whole engine was off. Her brain snapped to attention, absorbing the situation fully: the truck was on the shoulder, the emergencies were blinking steadily, and she was alone. The keys were still in the ignition, and a quick scan outside showed no sign of Killian. Her breath was coming out in little barely-there puffs; marking how low the temperatures had dropped.

Panic slinked up from her stomach, seizing her lungs and choking her throat.

_Something happened. Maybe Walsh showed up…_

_It's fine… I'm fine…_

_Maybe we bottomed out on gas and he left to get more._

_Why didn't he wake me?_

_Maybe he was hungry and went hunting for rabbit._

_WHY didn't he wake me?_

_He left… they always leave… always alone…_

_It's fine. I'm used to being alone. At least he left me the keys so I'm not stranded on the side of the road._

She was shivering hard now, though not entirely from the chill. Her thoughts spiraling out of control, assuming the worst in every scenario and then taking it further down the path to something more horrible. It left Emma feeling so very hollow.

Her door was wrenched open, startling a scream from her chest in strangled pitches. Hands –that weren't hands– grabbed for her. Emma kicked blindly, trying vainly to reach for the keys, the only thing pointy enough to stab holes into things. She felt a few connections from her flailing legs, earning her a few grunts of discomfort from whomever – _whatever_ – was at her feet; her heart sinking knowing she wasn't causing any real pain. Claw like appendages gripped her thighs, dragging her back to her side of the seat. Emma twisted her upper body, sitting up when she got close enough, pushing her fist into the creature's jaw. A solid crack of knuckles against bone, and whatever – _whoever_ – it was stumbled back a few paces. Forgetting everything she had been told about wolves, Emma ran into the open field next to the road, mindlessly hoping to make it to the far tree line.

_I fucking_ hate _running._

The air was cold and made breathing a bitch, each inhale stung like she swallowed handfuls of sewing needles. The sounds behind gained on her, faster than she could escape; arms wrapped around her middle as _It_ tackled her to the ground. They spun, the creature taking the brunt of the fall and Emma's weight on top. A hand came to the back of her skull, pressing her head into its neck as they rolled out the last of the momentum. Emma was trapped under _It_ , wanting to struggle and get away, finding she didn't have the air in her lungs to do anything more than gasp and cough. The body on top of her adjusted enough to stop crushing her, but not enough to relax its hold still gripping her tight. The claw that held her head curled its fingers, allowing the nails to scrape her scalp. She waited for the sting and trickle of blood, feeling instead a gentle rhythm of light scratches moving back and forth. _Its_ chest rumbled out a growl, low and steady, sounding disturbingly close to a purr. It was against her better judgment when the attempts to sooth and coax worked on her frayed nerves; the haze of fear and panic lifted away the more even her breathing became. A fleeting thought that she was passing out instead teased the edges of her mind, but she let it go, choosing to focus on calming down so she could fight again. The thing holding her flexed its arm around her stomach, pressing its cheek on her temple. She tried to shift, only finding her nose pressed tighter into the crook of _Its_ neck. Emma forced her body to go lax, and after a second, the thing eased the tension of _Its_ hold a fraction.

_Duly noted._

Emma relaxed another notch; _It_ turned its nose into her hair, making a small show of smelling her. _Its_ head moved, the tip of its nose tracing a path along her hairline down to the shell of her ear, finally tucking itself behind the lobe. _It_ took a deep breath there, nuzzling slightly. _It_ moved its arm from its hold around her middle, not that she would be able to squirm away still pressed between _It_ and the earth. Claws scratched along her back, slowly coming around, flaring out to span her ribs. The flesh of the appendages glided down, converging together to pinch the tender skin. Emma flinched away, but nothing more. A grunt sounded at her ear, and _It_ lightly pinched again. She flinched away again and the grunt turned into an insistent nudge of _Its_ nose followed by a whimper. Another pinch and what had been fear was quickly giving way to irritation. The creature heaved a sigh, sounding more put out than anything. The hand at her ribs dropped to the ground right below, and the rhythmic scratches on her head stopped as that hand slowly let her head rest down on the grass and dirt. Emma had been right; it was a wolf after her. It looked like it was partially through a change, jaw elongated and no longer aligned with its upper teeth. The nose had receded, looking stubby and peculiar with large, flared nostrils. _It_ was keeping its head mostly turned away, a moonless night making it hard to see in the dark who had her pinned. The most she could tell was that _It_ was male. And that he wasn't planning on eating her at this particular moment. He seemed intent on calming her down, though god knows why he had been pinching her side. It was a ticklish spot sure, but she wasn't in the mood to laugh. Regardless of how many times he dug on the same rib. It wasn't like he had been using a wet nose like Killian did the night he broke into her room.

A gear clicked, then two. Emma wriggled her hand out from between them, the fact he let her only solidified the idea in her head. She carded her fingers through his hair, his head tilting into the movement. "Killian?"

He turned his head just enough to open one eye at her, showing her his blinding ice white eyes. Relief flooded her system, triggering Killian's collapse on top of her. Clothes might separate their bodies, but Emma felt the shifting of muscles above her. It felt bizarre and sounded painful but Killian lay as he was, otherwise motionless. They stayed like that in the minutes it took for him to shift back, Emma stroking the hair on his head, not sure if it was for his benefit or her own. The intimacy of their positions slowly marked its way through her brain as his form turned more human. His head was tucked just under her breasts, her comforting hand keeping him there. His arms limp and dead weight on either side of her, caging her torso. Her legs splayed, giving cradle to his lower abdomen. Unwanted and unbidden, their kiss played again behind her eyes. Killian's head turned as he slid down her body, her shirt dragging in directions that did nothing to hide her skin. He nosed at the soft flesh of her stomach, catching a deep breath again. Emma cursed her libido once more, knowing it sold her out to his senses. He slid down again, nose at the button to her jeans, giving Emma another moment of panic as to how far Killian would try to take this. But then his legs shuffled against the grass, and he sat up on his haunches. All but his eyes had returned to human. Emma remained as she was, waiting to see how far he had lost it. His head tilted to the side, watching her. Killian still wasn't speaking, and she wasn't going to force him into it. For all she knew, his vocal chords weren't functioning yet. His hands eased down behind her knees, bending them up, planting her feet squarely on the ground. He stood, only to bend back down for her hands. He didn't pull her up; rather let Emma use him as counter balance so she could do it herself. Upright, there was barely room for air to pass between them. He eyes were dancing over her face, clocking lord knows what, but there was no mistaking he was making notations of her in his head. He released a hand, brought his fingers up to her hair, tucking fallen strands away. A gentle smile playing at his lips. Killian closed the distance, leaning his forehead to hers.

In a swoop, he was gone, dipping low and reaching an arm under her knees. Gravity left her as Killian lifted her in that damned way he insisted on doing, carrying her back to the truck. Emma squirmed, and Killian gripped tighter so she wouldn't fall. She opened her mouth to argue that she was more than able to walk, only to be met with a sudden stop and an eyebrow high on his head. His eyes were white; _Zuul_ was still in charge.

Emma huffed. "Fine, carry me then. I hope I weigh more than my scale says I do."

A grin matched the eyebrow.

_Right. Super strong. He could probably carry three of me._

Giving up, Emma rested her head on his shoulder. "Fine, then I hope you have rocks in your shoes."

* * *

_ Hour Seven: _

He hadn't let Emma sit on her side of the cab after the got back to the truck, nor when he started driving. Killian had gone as far as grabbing the waistband of her pants and pulled her hip to hip with him when she tried to inch away. She didn't stop him; she knew he was only doing it to calm down that other part of him. It was another twenty minutes down the road before he spoke, launching directly into explanations instead of asking her questions. Killian explained that he had gone off and hidden because he had to use, and to quote: "The little puppy's room." But it had taken him time to find a spot where the scent he'd leave behind wouldn't scare off another predator from its own territory, nor frighten the local wildlife from viable food sources. He had been on his way back when he heard her crying, though she couldn't remember doing that. Her panic had prompted his defensive change, robbing him of the ability to speak. He complimented Emma on her straight jab to his jaw, and then sprung into a rant on all the bad things that happen when you run from a predator. A silence fell when he had finished his crash course of animal psychology, his jaw ticking away and his thumb tapping against the wheel. He wasn't done talking, so Emma kept quiet.

"My apologies love. It was my fault. I should have woken you, or left a note. At the very least stayed within visible shouting range."

"It's fine." Emma muttered, causing Killian to grip the wheel in a show of impatience. "No really, it is. You made a mistake, so did I. We'll both just take it for the learning experience it is."

He grunted, but let it matter drop, nor did he stop her when she inched her way back to her side of the seat. He turned the radio on when her seatbelt clicked; Emma smiled a little when he chose another classic rock station. The remaining miles were quiet, Emma privately enjoying the fact that they could be around each other without having to fill the void with needless chatter. (Not counting the moments where she dozed off.) They rolled up to his farmhouse just after one in the morning, the graveled path bouncing Emma from the most recent nap. A white house loomed in front of her. The paint was dingy and chipping away. The wooden steps leading to the front door, warped from rain and age. What would have been decorative plants and bushes looked wildly overgrown. Even in the dark, Emma could see the roof in need of some patch jobs.

"You're going to protect me in that thing?" Killian shot her an incredulous look, nodding instead of speaking. Emma chuffed, "You're braver than I thought."

It took him a couple seconds, but he caught her quip, and laughed with her. "I should have known. Come on Swan. Morning comes early, and we have to be at Brookside by early afternoon. Door's unlocked, go warm up Granny's pot pie for us; we should eat something. I know I need to. I'll fetch in our bags."

On a whim, and because of the previous snafu, Emma leaned over landing a kiss to his cheek. "Of course dear."

Though she didn't hang around after. Grabbing the food, she bounded up the old wooden steps, and hid in the confines of the house.

* * *

_ Hour Eight: _

The sodding woman kept running from him, and there was only so much he could do to stop himself from chasing her. And now with them both tucked rightfully into their beds –separate beds thank the Gods, or maybe damned by them– Killian lay staring at his ceiling, begging any deity listening for a scrap of sleep. Still frighteningly close to running after her, and settling up on this mutual problem they had. He wouldn't, he was a gentleman after all. Couldn't, not after what that run in the field had shown him.

Killian threw the covers off, striding off to the bathroom for a shower.

_Well and completely buggered._


	16. Validation…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a part where Killian makes Emma laugh in this chapter, and if you want to see exactly what I'm getting at, please go to: http://krustybunny.tumblr.com/post/141363896726/edwtd-extras Try to get the image of Colin doing that out of your head now.

**Chapter 15:**

**Validation…**

* * *

Emma's skin itched and crawled from the roll in the dirt and grass, forcing her body into the shower rather than collapsing on the bed from exhaustion. (T _hank you random bug crawling up my calf for the help in that decision._ ) Out of habit, she had washed her hair, only to find that a hair dryer wasn't among the amenities provided ( _Now he doesn't have one?_ ) and had to face a cold New England night with wet hair. Her grumblings blended into contented moans when she slipped between the fresh sheets ( _Bless the person who thought up jersey knit sheets._ ) and found the bed to be a pillow top. ( _I forgive you Killian, for the lack of a hair dryer._ ) Sleep still eluded her, however, with the bed too comfortable and the sounds outside her window lacking the usual city life she was used to. The more she tried to find that sweet spot in the bed, the more her bedclothes felt constricting and oppressive; twisting and tangling around her midsection and legs. Each new sound and sensation seemed to exist simply to keep her awake longer and bother her further. To put it bluntly, Emma had become too tired to sleep. There was the occasional fleeting thought of seeking out Killian, in what Emma assumed was a basic need to feel something familiar in the room with her. Because it wasn't the memory of a solid body next to her offering strength and safety, and it wasn't the welcoming idea of his seemingly constant state of warmth as she shivered in the still chilled bed. It most certainly wasn't the way her body imploded on itself when his nose had traced along her skin as hot air puffed from his lips, out in the middle of freaking nowhere. Or the promise and knowledge of what his lips were capable of.

In a fit, Emma flung back the blankets and launched out of the bed. She paced the floor, desperate enough for sleep to debate on the comfort available only a few doors away. Suddenly her clothes weren't just an irritation; they were an excuse to wander the house looking for something she shouldn't be playing with. If Graham was any indicator of what a territorial wolf acted like, Emma didn't need any of… _that_ … right now. Cold air be damned, Emma was sleeping naked. And if he was rude enough to barge into her room come morning ( _Hardly, the man was a template for old school romance only seen in cheesy paperback novels._ ), then he could blush from his ear tips to his toes. She slid naked back into the bed, the fabric was soft like a well-worn t-shirt and she weighed herself down with a small mountain of blankets. Feeling cocooned and teetering on reckless.

_Much better._

When she finally passed out, her lips were curling at the edges as ideas of Killian gracing the cover of the latest Harlequin played in her head.

* * *

Morning came early; songbirds chirped happily outside, and the sun shone squarely on Emma's eyes. A string of very obscene words tumbled out of her mouth as she burrowed down further into her fabric mountain, refusing to even glance at her phone for the hour. The world was bright and perky when she wanted to reclaim the oblivion she had found. It was almost hers again –the world had almost faded from her mind– when the smells of cooking food slithered into her cave of cloths. The heavy smells of fried breads and fried meats; breakfast foods that all deserved to be slathered in maple syrup and dusted with powdered sugars. Her stomach was growling, begging for the source to be sought out. Emma held firm, arguing with her body that right now sleep was more important. Food could always be found later, Killian wouldn't let her starve. There wasn't a guarantee that the food was for anyone but himself, wandering out there with hopes of fatty sustenance could make the whole morning awkward. Emma had nearly won her internal struggle, a fog of sleep seeping the corners of her brain, until the ambrosias smell of coffee broke through the growing haze. Food he might not share, but Killian could spare a cup of coffee; he would share a cup even if Emma had to resort to a threatening a call to Granny to get it. Forfeiting her beloved mountain, Emma rose from the bed to pull on the stretch pants that had tangled her legs the night before and dug through her case for a t-shirt that wasn't horribly wrinkled.

She followed the scents of home cooked food to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to allow her jaw to hit the floor. It wasn't just some pancakes and bacon that he had made (though those were present at this feast); it was waffles, sausages, biscuits, a pot of country gravy, ham steaks, a giant bowl of sliced fruits, French toast, a medium bowl of scrambled eggs, a plate of hash browns, and condiments to accompany every variation. All filling the majority of the breakfast table and the entirety of the serving bar. The International House of Pancakes had exploded all over the kitchen. Killian didn't glance her way as he danced about the room, placing plates and utensils for everything –though Emma didn't doubt he knew exactly where she was, her posture, and her current state of mind.

She still broke the silence first, "Are we expecting company?"

His eyes flicked up to her in a double take, she hadn't surprised him but something still made him halt his movements. His gaze wasn't at all subtle as it took her in from head to toe, taking a few extra seconds over her hair. A blush crept her cheeks, thinking she should have at least run a brush through it, not sure what kind of tangled mass it had become after letting it dry through the night between her head and the pillow. The blush deepened when she felt a distinct absence of a bra, kicking herself for forgetting it in her haste for caffeine. Emma made for a chair as quickly as she could without giving away more than what he had already figured out. He shook his head as she approached him, stepping away to the far counter for something else to add to the spread. Emma gathered the wild of her hair to one side of her neck hoping to contain it all.

A steaming mug came over her right shoulder, set in its proper corner above the plate. His voice was close to her ear, low and quiet, "No, this is for us. I was positively _starving_ after yesterday's excursions." Emma's eyes rolled back in her head before she shut them; happy he was behind her and couldn't see her face. "And I found myself unaware of what you preferred to consume in the mornings, so I made it all. I hope that at least one thing will be to your liking."

_Christ Killian, you have no idea._

"I, um… didn't check my phone. Did I sleep late?" Emma folded her hands in her lap, still not quite trusting them to hold any dish or cup of scalding hot anything yet.

"Not in the scheme of things, roughly six hours." He sat in the chair to her immediate right. "I got a call from Humbert, demanding a conversation with you. I had to inform him that you were still sleeping and I would have to invade your chambers to fulfill his request. He wasn't too keen on that idea."

_And I would have been naked. That would have been an interesting way to wake up…_

"He asked that you call him as soon as you woke, but I think after breakfast would be better love."

She smiled. "Scared of Granny getting at you for not feeding me?"

He reached for her hand in her lap, bringing it up above the table and letting their elbows rest on the surface, looking much like he was setting up for an arm wrestling match with the wrong hand. He turned his wrist so his thumb pressed the center dip of her palm, making her fingers curl over his digit. She looked to him then, his face was earnest and head tilted towards her. "Because I wanted the pleasure of your company in a quiet and informal setting before our responsibilities took over our day."

Killian tilted her hand towards him with a deeper press of his thumb, brushing a kiss against her knuckles, never breaking his eyes away. White spots danced over his eyes until that's all they were. She only held the contact for a heartbeat before averting her eyes to the food taking over the flat surfaces. "What? No crêpes?"

A hearty chuckle burst out from him, "Alas, no. I am lacking the proper cooking contraption for those. If you'll pardon me this failing, I swear to purchase one soon enough and make you one of every variety I can manage."

Encouraged by his good mood and proof that Emma was far too impulsive when not properly caffeinated, his speckled eyes gave her an idea and was given life before any real thought went into it. "Killian, before we eat, could I ask you a favor?"

"Of course love."

She hesitated, her own conclusions dawning too late. She had no idea how sensitive this might be, or what it entailed at all. All at once, her plate was the most interesting thing in the room. A solid piece of ceramic, she noticed, no dips or ridges. No patterns or paints. Plain, solid, and white. She focused on the simple thing for another few moments, gathering her wits and courage. To ask, or back out though, she was still deciding.

"Emma sweetheart, ask. Please don't be afraid of doing so with me."

_Oh… if you only knew…_

She breathed deep. "Changing back and forth takes energy right?"

His hand –which hadn't yet let go of her own– flexed. Emma felt her stomach drop, worried she had overstepped her bounds. She tugged her hand to return it to her lap, but he only held on tighter. He said nothing, and she couldn't bring herself to look at him and gauge the reactions on his face.

_Should have asked him to strip Emma, would have been less personal._

His voice came in quiet and even tones, "A full change can take some time. It's painful, to watch and endure. And it sounds less pleasant than that. Because of the pain, once the wolf is in place, its temperament can be volatile; unpredictable. Even Ruby –who for all intents and purposes, views you as her surrogate child– wouldn't know you for what you are, until the haze lifted and her control was back in place. Each change –in either direction– saps the body of strength, and momentarily clouds the mind with a sort of madness. Though, how much energy taken and how long it takes to reacquire control will vary from wolf to wolf."

The silence returned, her question answered, her unasked request still hanging in the air. He tugged her hand again, but Emma stayed attentive on her empty plate. His thumb slid down to her wrist, glancing off her skin just enough to send the nerves throughout her arm into a frenzy. A nose pressed into her empty palm, his hair falling forward to tease her fingertips. Hot breath blew and he spoke again. "Everything up until now has been fractional for you. Claws, eyes… never seeing much more than that. You want this all to still be one big massive mistake, and until you see it for yourself, it still can be. You want to see. And with all this food already here, you were hoping it wouldn't be so bad."

Her breathing came shorter now. Hearing it spoken back confirmed her idea that a physical exam would be less personal for him. And stupid, it was so incredibly stupid. She has watched his eyes melt from one color to the other right in front of her, seen him run for her looking like an extra from a Syfy channel "B" movie, only to watch those features mold away as if they didn't exist in the first place. She'd seen enough; it should be enough.

The fleshy part of her palm under her thumb received a nip from his teeth, forcing Emma to look up. She was met with eyes as blue as the autumn sky. A soft smile curved his lips as he rested her hand back to the table. "It makes sense Emma. Better with me than a _complete_ stranger, aye? And this way, when everything is over, you can avoid looking at Graham and Ruby like they might be monsters should they do the same in front of you." She moved to argue the monster comment, but he continued on before she could. "I'm already starving from last night's near change, so I'm afraid that this morning's spread might not pass as enough. It'll push pent up frustrations to the surface as well, so I'll have to go on a hunt, if not simply run the residual energy out of me. I won't be long and not far enough where I wouldn't be able to hear you shout for me. If you like, I can escort you to the panic room, but you should be safe in the house today."

She shook her head. "I'll stay here."

A queer look came over him, not one Emma could place as quickly as it passed. But he nodded to her choice. "Still, every bedroom door bolts from the inside, and there's a button next to every light switch. Hit it if you're in trouble."

Killian rose and walked right out of the kitchen. Returning stark naked a minute later save for a towel covering his personal areas. She ducked her head, feeling the heat of a blush rushing to her skin. She hadn't thought of that part. Of course he'd have to be naked.

_Guess I did ask him to strip._

A glance back in Killian's direction, and Emma couldn't stop the laughter if she needed to. He was posing in a body builder's flex with his head turned to her, sporting the most absurd face she'd ever seen. Of course once he had her attention, he only cycled through more poses and faces. She was breathless and her stomach ached before he was done, settling into his normal military rest stance as she recovered.

"Better now?" Leaning sideways over her place setting, Emma brought in a deep cleansing breath, nodding to him. A hand covering her mouth, to stop further giggles that might escape. "Couldn't have you pensive and fretting like that love. Would have sparked off a reaction I might not be able to control right away. After I'm changed, give me a minute to gain control. I'll let you know when. Meet my eyes for one full second, then drop your eyes down. I'm in control, but the instincts of a wolf will be to the forefront; better safe than sorry. Let me approach you. After that, look to me and talk to me as you normally would."

"And if you can't gain control?"

His eyes flashed white briefly. "If I can't, then get to the floor. Head down and tilted to the side. Offering the neck is a submissive move. If I approach you and haven't given a sign that I'm in charge, stay as you are. Let me sniff or do whatever I need to. I might try to move you around, expose your belly and the like. Maybe even push you away from the food. Make your way slowly and on all fours out the door to your room. Bolt it and find that button. For the love of god don't run this time. Even if I have control, _do not run_. Prey runs."

Emma nodded, "Do you think you'll try to hurt me?"

This time his irises were hard and brilliant against the white of the eyes. ( _God, they're glowing._ ) His voice came low and she knew Zuul was back. "Never."

Emma turned her eyes to the windows, refusing to read into that reaction. Orange leaves were turning brown and falling to the ground. "When do we go to Brookside?"

His feet shuffled as he settled to the floor. "We'll leave around three; it's not a far drive. I was informed of a gathering tonight, we should stay for it if they ask us to. But if you aren't in favor of it, we'll leave, and they can all sod off." He paused one last time. "This will be hard to watch Emma. I'd tell you to fill your plate and eat off of it if you should need a distraction, but the sounds might put you off your stomach for a bit. If you feel like you might be sick, use the sink. Do. Not. Run. If the wolf worries over it and can't get to you… just stay if you can."

Emma didn't look back for the first sounds. Hisses and grunts, and if she was honest, she would have thought they were all for show. Then there was the wet pops and crunching of bones (which sound nothing like the movies portray). Those drew her attention. He had lain face down, with the towel draped over his backside –probably more for her benefit than his dignity. In this moment though, seeing the male genitalia would have been welcome. In this moment, one leg had broken backwards at the knee to give the hindquarter its extra joint. The bones had pierced through the skin, and Emma watched as the skin grew over the open wound; first as new and wet flesh and then as thick black fur. His dark hair was forging a trail down his back, spreading slowly over his sides. His ribs kept popping outwards and realigning. What was left of his original skin was covered in sweat. His other leg snapped finally, and Emma tasted her bile to see it.

Killian slammed his hand down, grunting in pain. The towel slid, showing the spine extending out of his body. Not just bone, but the skin with it –most of it. The hand he hit the ground with, had swollen. She couldn't see them, but the tiny pops sounding off like firecrackers told Emma that his fingers were reforming. His fingernails had thickened and curved, causing his fingertips to bleed from the quicks and cuticles. She had expected Killian to shrink in size somewhat, to fit the traditional "dog" format. But he had remained a Killian sized wolf. Wolf-like anyway. His hair –which resembled fur more now– covered almost all of him. Emma noticed then, that the entire time she had been trying to take it all in, she hadn't seen his face once; his head had turned away from her. And she was grateful; watching his body reform was difficult, watching a skull do that –or watching the pain in his face– would have been too much.

The minutes ticked on, and though she couldn't see much happening anymore, the sounds still permeated the air. ( _The movies have it REALLY wrong._ ) Emma chanced a quick look to the stove, ten full minutes had passed, and there wasn't a way to know if he was done or not. He was on his legs (all four of them) when she turned back. Front legs splayed out as if he was trying to regain balance, head down and tongue out as he panted through –what she assumed– was the last of the change. Killian moved each leg one at a time: contracting it then extending it. He rolled his back, looking like a frightened cat doing so. Zuul –as she liked to call this part of him– shook his body like he was shedding unwanted water, finishing it all with snorting out a sneeze. Even though she had seen him as such before, this wasn't anything close to the night he woke her. Killian, in all fairness, was a good-looking man. But the wolf in front of her was an awesome sight. Larger than what she remembered, his shoulder would easily be waist high to her. Sitting as she was, she was going to end up eye level with him. He was more muscle than the wolves at the Brooklyn zoo too. His left front foot wasn't black like the rest of him, but a silvery gray.

Emma thought she'd be afraid of him, of this wild thing driven by instinct and impulse. She thought her own fears of cementing this new world into her reality would drown her. Emma wasn't prepared for the excitement nor the eagerness that ran through her, least of all the child-like urge to reach out and run her fingers through his fur. His head was still down as Zuul turned to face her; claws ( _talons more like_ ) clacking on the floor. Every giddy feeling left her in a rush when that large head came up, and the bleached eyes met her own.

Maybe she didn't drop them fast enough, or maybe asking him to change right now was a bad idea. Zuul let forth a low growl, causing Emma's skin to seize and the hairs stand. She did drop them, but it didn't seem to stop him. Zuul took slow, soundless steps her way. (How he managed that on a tile floor he had only _just_ made noise on was passed her.) Internally, Emma knew she should be trying to control her fear; predators latch onto fear. But there was a giant meat-eating creature making its way to her and fear was the default setting. She felt hot breath on her face, smelling faintly of bacon that he must have snitched while cooking. A familiar push in the air came from all around; familiar even if she had no idea what it was or _why_ it was. All she knew that every time it came, she felt safe. A tad too compliant for her liking, but safe.

Emma forgot to be afraid.

A nose traced her jawline, breath huffing against her. She let Zuul tilt her head and expose her neck. Even if she doubted Killian's word that he wouldn't hurt her (she didn't), her own gut feeling hadn't let her down yet. Killian was her friend, and Zuul wanted her safe.

Zuul licked a stripe from jaw to forehead. "Ugh! Really?"

Zuul backed up a half step, tongue lolling out of a mouth grinning –or as close to grinning as he could get. His tail wagging back and forth and his ears perked forward. He was giving her all the tells of a happy dog.

"Killian?"

He chuffed; tail wagging just a little more.

"You're humongous."

He came back that small half step, lifting that silvery paw to her knee.

"Oh, you can shake? Cool, I'm all out of Scooby Snacks though."

His head tilted and Emma would swear she saw his eyebrow arch up. Impulses still not in total control, Emma had her hand up and reaching for him. His paw moved from her leg, and her hand stilled.

"Can… can I?"

His muzzle pushed under hand in permission, tilting and bouncing it backwards so her hand moved and landed on the crown of his head. The fur was coarse on the top, thick and wiry. His undercoat though, was all soft fluff. Emma watched her hand disappear in the thickness of it, avoiding the steady gaze he maintained on her face. She didn't even know what to call him. Killian was in the driver's seat of the Zuul-mobile. Rather than rack her brain, she scratched her nails along the skin she found, slow and rhythmic. Finding herself enjoying it as much as she would someone playing with her own head of hair.

Killian in the Zuul-mobile made a sound, and Emma remembered. He would have to eat. Hunt, he had said. Run and catch and kill a critter. It wasn't a pleasant thought, though the idea of eating brought grumbles from her stomach in reply.

"Right. Breakfast. Go on, I'll dish up in a minute."

The ears pinned back a moment, Emma wondered if Zuul had issue with her word phrasing. He twisted his head, catching her wrist in his mouth. She felt her fear spark at the base of her skull. He said he wouldn't hurt her, but fangs were fangs. He stopped moving, keeping her wrist where it was… waiting. Emma breathed deep till she felt the fear notch down a bit. He tugged her out of the chair, pulling her the feast set out. Then stood behind her, blocking any escape from the table.

"You want me to fix a plate for you?"

Zuul-mobile growled softly. Bumping Emma's backside with his shoulder.

"Me. You want me to set up my own plate?"

His tail wagged a little.

"I said I would, I wasn't going to be rude and eat in front of you."

He growled again. Nothing threatening, just obvious displeasure.

"Fine."

He already knew she ate like a soldier, so Emma didn't demure away from filling her plate –as fun as it might be to push him when he couldn't use his fancy speech to tease her with as he normally would. Compromising, she took an inordinate amount of time picking her choices. Plate full, she set it down at her seat and moved for his. He growled at her again, but Emma ignored him this time, filling his plate with the bulk of meats he had cooked. (Not that she knew what he wanted, giving meats to a wolf just seemed logical.) She set it on the floor for him, even though he was tall enough to eat off the table, and retook her chair. Karma –or a healthy dose of his own childish behavior– Zuul-mobile sat in front of his plate politely without touching a bite. They stared at each other, or more accurately, he stared at her while she stared at his plate.

"Alright. Alright, fine. You win." Emma shoved a mouthful in, needing to squirrel away some of it in her cheeks just to chew the rest. Even went as far as exaggerating the chewing motions with wide eyes.

He snorted, dragging in a few bites of his own. But he didn't stop watching her, making insistent sounds when she seemed to slow down. He finished first giving Emma new meaning for "wolfing it down", and started in on some of the food still on the table. Emma thought he'd only eat the meats (which he did), but then he inhaled the pancakes and waffles and Emma had new questions for later. With her plate empty, she watched in mild fascination as he was slurping down the country gravy.

"I was hoping to put this food away and save it for later, but I guess 'starving' didn't quite cover what you were, did it?"

Mid-slurp, Killian stopped, looking as shamed-faced as a wolf could.

"No, not like that. I was teasing mostly. I love breakfast for dinner, but not if it means you're killing more cute bunnies for it." Emma stood, stacking dishes that he had already moved on from. "Besides, it's less clean-up for me if you eat it all first."

She ignored the sounds of his resumed gorging, busying herself in the sorting the dishes for the washer and things needing a more personal touch. Arm deep in soap and suds, a plate clanked on her left. Killian had brought her the one from the floor. His tail wagging slightly again.

"Thank you. Still out of Scooby Snacks."

He made a sound, bumping her again with his shoulder before moving to the kitchen door.

"Oh. Yeah you can't work doors now… not without breaking them down anyway." She opened it, waiting for him to dash out after whatever caught his attention. But once more that morning, he remained still and watching her. "What? I promise I'll clean it all up."

His ears pinned and a whining sound came from his throat.

"What is it?"

He nearly knocked her over when he leaned bodily into her. Her hand –still wet and sudsy– combed through his fur again. As much to regain balance as to comfort whatever was bothering him.

"Hey, I don't know what has you worked up, but you need to do your wolf thing. I'll get the kitchen sorted out, then I'm going back to my room. I have to call home anyway… I'll leave the door unlatched for you."

Zuul growled.

"You have to be able to get back in and I didn't think you'd want to become human out in the wild; bits and pieces hanging out for all those pointy sticks to puncture. But I'll lock my bedroom door if you're worried."

Killian leaned in harder for a moment, a sigh leaving him. He licked her soapy hand, then was gone.

* * *

"So you're ok? Killian isn't being weird?" Ruby's face filled Emma's monitor. Well, most of Ruby's face. The potion was taking longer to wear off than they thought giving Emma a chance to really deconstruct the color of her own eyes without a mirror to lie to her.

"He's been just fine. I don't know why you'd be worried now, you've been all but shoving me at him since this started."

"I have not; just making sure you two had time to become comfortable with each other. He's the brother I never wanted and you're my Emma."

Emma scoffed with disbelief. "Uh-huh."

Graham's voice came distorted from somewhere off screen. "He hasn't done anything that gives me an excuse to kill him, has he?"

Emma wouldn't be able to lie, Graham would know; there was plenty that happened between New York and now that Graham would lose it on. "Not unless taking care of me to the point of annoyance counts." _Close enough._

Ruby butt in before Graham could respond. "No. It doesn't. You're stubborn and he's probably the only person more so. For once Emma, let someone take care of you without giving them hell for it."

"She's been gone a day Ruby, and already you've forgotten our Emma?"

Emma pointed at the screen. "You both suck."

Ruby laughed, "You think Killian is bad? Just wait until you meet Snow. Living definition of 'mother hen'. Sneaky too. Stickler for proper manners though, so mind them if you can."

Emma nodded. "What's her story?"

Ruby hesitated. "I'll let you discover that on your own. I don't want to say things she might want left alone. Her life hasn't been easy, kinda like yours. Not foster homes, but hard all the same. You can ask her, she won't be offended, but better if she tells it."

_Interesting._ "And her Alpha? Dave or something?"

"David. Good guy. Regular Prince Charming, but genuine. And I know you're thinking it'll drive you nuts, but I swear you'll be taken in with him. I dare you not to smile when he does. They're married by the way, David and Snow. Both are dear friends of ours; you'll be safe with them."

"Right." A door sounded from somewhere in the house. For a moment, Emma stopped breathing. A smooth tenor singing what sounded like a sea shanty broke through the air.

Ruby's head tilted the way that dogs do when they hear something new or strange. "That would be Killian. Wonder what has him in such a good mood…"

Emma ignored that Ruby could hear him clearly even when Emma could barely do so. "He sings?"

Graham spoke from off screen again. "He's singing?"

Ruby turned her head, as surprised as Emma. "He's singing a sea shanty."

"Are you sure?" Graham's voice came shocked, full of new and somber interest.

"Is there a reason Graham is staying out of the camera's view?"

Ruby snickered. "Cause he still has Killian's nose."

"Oh really? Take a picture?"

"Already done."

Emma pointed over her shoulder. "And the singing?"

"Um. Well he doesn't do it often. Usually only when he's scored on a hunt of his…"

Though still off screen, Graham's voice was close to the mic, as hushed as he could be. "A shanty isn't something he's done in over a century Emma. I can't say why, only that it's important. There will be a point where you'll have more questions, and I will be able to give you full disclosure then. For right now, just enjoy his good mood."

"Awesomely cryptic Graham."

Ruby smirked in the camera. _Oh boy._ "Yeah Emma, and later you can tell me how much you _enjoyed_ his good mood."

Emma laughed openly as Graham sputtered. The song ended and Killian picked up a more modern tune.

Ruby smiled. "Go on then Emma. I'll keep Graham from running up there and playing chaperone. _Enjoy_ your night."

The window collapsed mere seconds before the singing stopped and a knock rapped at Emma's door. "Yeah?"

The door eased open just enough for Killian's face to poke through. Irritated concern written all over his face. "You swore to me this door would be locked Swan." He breached what remained of the threshold, striding in to her side and scanning with senses Emma didn't have. "I heard a voice other than your own, are you alright?"

"I'm fine you St. Bernard." His face swung to her in obvious offense, hands landing on his hips. "I just forgot to relock it after I grabbed a drink from the kitchen."

"And the voice? I heard someone other than you talking Swan."

_So much for his good mood._ She couldn't resist teasing him. "I was vlogging."

He sneered. "Vlogging?"

"Yeah, you know when someone talks into a camera about their day or a specific subject–"

He waved her off. "I know perfectly well what it is love, I just have a distaste for the word in particular."

Emma snickered. "Oh? And what you call it?"

"Video diaries."

Emma gave into the laughter that had been bubbling up since the image of Graham with Killian's nose popped in her head.

"If you're quite finished laughing at me Swan, mind telling me what voice I heard so I can calm down?"

And then it made sense. The switch in songs, the anger in his tones when he entered her room. He had thought something was happening while he was away. But with nothing available to fight, he was struggling to bring the adrenaline back down. _Hadn't he said something about changing bringing emotions to the forefront?_

Emma slipped her fingers in his nearest hand, "I Skyped with Ruby and Graham. I figured it would make them easier if they could see I was ok instead of just hearing my voice. You heard _them_. I'm sorry I worried you."

His thumb brushed the outside of hers, tension leaving him in every stroke. His shoulders relaxed, his face softened. Emma marveled at how often and well touch worked with him. _Guard dog to puppy in 2.9 seconds._ Killian arched his brow and Emma began wondering if he could hear her thoughts.

"Get ready then. We should leave within the hour." He bent down while pulling her hand up to his lips, giving a kiss with a small flourish, sauntering out of her room humming a tune from Pirates of the Caribbean.

* * *

They had bickered for a bit in the truck as to music choices again. If Killian were an honest man, he'd simply admit he didn't care what they listened to. Part of living for so long meant immersing yourself into the evolving state of certain arts. Remaining stuck to one or two eras prevented one from embracing immortality, resulting in a quicker set in of madness. But that was all a heavy handed and over-intellectual way of telling himself why he enjoyed hearing Emma fight with him. She knew what he was entirely now and she hadn't shied away from him. Big scary monster and she wasn't running from him.

_Hope is a dangerous thing…_

"What's wrong with the word vlogging?"

Apparently he was lost enough in his admiration that he hadn't noticed the switch in topics. "Pardon?"

Her mouth quirked into a smile, and bugger him if he wasn't distracted again. "Earlier you said you hated the word vlogging, but didn't tell me why."

"Oh… aye. It too closely resembles flogging. A horrid bit of discipline I've had the chance to experience. In the giving and receiving of it."

Her smile widened. "And? You aren't telling me everything."

A blush flooded his face. "It's also a euphemism for certain male activities conducted alone."

Emma giggled, chasing away foul memories for the embarrassment easily attained. "I take it you aren't a 'vlogger' then Killian?"

Retorts by the pound weighed in his mind, all with the intention of transferring his blush to her. But he held them in. As desirable as it would be to see her skin full of blood, rushed there by his lustful and lewd suggestions, her laughter sang like the moon in his ears. And that wasn't something he was willing to let go of, ever if possible, even if it was at his expense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We have now caught up to where this story was first taken down. Some of you might have read this chapter, some might have missed it... it wasn't up for very long. So at this point, I need to point fingers at three distinct people.   
> There is Cath (gp28writer/notreturnvoid), who is a writer and a former Tumblr'r that I always assumed I was friends with. (Not sure if said friendship was in my head or not, I was too busy fangirling that she talked to me ever.) She was always supportive of my writing, even when she didn't like it. Being a bookworm herself, I don't think she had it in her to shut down anyone willing to write... she also just that fantastic of a person.  
> Then there is Maria (Scapeartist). Another CS fic writer (available on Ao3, FFnet, and Tumblr) who -again- was incredibly supportive of both my writing, and the taking down of said writing. She was the one that helped me remember that I was over thirty, and the high school level BS I was getting wasn't something I should deal with. That in the end, this was story was mine, and sharing it was always going to be my choice. But neither should I walk away from doing something I enjoy just because I'm the only one enjoying it. As one of the 5 that got to read the story from this point on, she has provided a firm grounding for me to walk on. Without her, this story wouldn't have continued. (She also makes faboo jewelry. Maria-of-all-trades on tumblr and etsy.com/shop/MariaOfAllTrades)  
> Then, at last, there is Onceuponataarna. Another of the 5 that I shared future chapters with, an amazing fic writer available on Ao3, FFnet, and tumblr, and possibly why the story wouldn't shut the fuck up in my head. I can safely say this woman is my first fangirl. Which is weird, cause I was losing my shit over her fic long before I started writing mine. (She's also gorgeous and talented and far too busy to be talking to me as often as she manages.) I cannot begin to express my love for this woman. I really can't. I can't even come up with coherent reasons right now as to why she has affected me so, just rambles of run-on sentences declaring her good deeds like a herald at a Renaissance Faire. (Considering her Elvish good looks and my hearty peasant-stock ones, this imagery isn't that far off.) She has become a major part of my every day, and at this point, I'm not sure how certain moments passed without exchanging messages with her in equal measures of our spazzing over the content.   
> There's one more to name for getting this fic back up, but I'll name her later as she came in quite suddenly towards the end of this fic. But if there are people to blame for this fic - continuing on and posting/re-posting- its these three women. Properly lynch them if you please.
> 
> Updates will now be slowing down to once a week with everyone caught up now.


	17. …Preparation…

**Chapter 16:**

… **Preparation…**

* * *

Killian was feeding their information to an intercom while Emma gawked the iron gates in front of her. It was wide enough to fit two eighteen wheelers side-by-side and tall enough to have the same rigs pass through the archway without clearance issue. Solid for the most part, showcasing entwining vines, flowers, horses, and what looked like a tree orchard. There had to be a story to go with it, or a story within it; Emma hoped someone would be able to tell her something about it. Solid stone surrounded the iron in guard towers, and marched off to the horizon into a forest of trees in either direction. The iron barricade parted, and the old truck rumbled through. The driveway (which was a two-lane highway from Emma's viewpoint) rode on over green lawns; not kept trim as you would see on expensive estates. This grass was left to grow as it pleased, not rising high and stiff, instead it slumped over in large tufts on the ground. Wild flowers grew as they may by the roadside, filtering off on their own throughout the overgrowth.

Killian's voice came soft, and filled with amusement. "Pack houses usually cover acres and acres of land. That way the pack can hunt wild animals without threat of –or to– humans. It's also far more satisfying to run through nature as it is, than anything landscaped and molded."

Of course, whatever expression she wore that he found amusing, dissipated the moment the pack house came into full view. Brookside wasn't a mansion… that would be too small. This? This was a castle. Complete with turrets. They drove on (and on and on), the road taking them away from the front door and to a small parking garage concealed within its own small forest of trees.

The drop gate was crewed by a short, blonde man with a simple smile who stopped them again. "I'm supposed to take your keys…" He thought for a second, "…and park the truck for you. David and Snow are already waiting for you up in the main house."

"Apologies, my jovial friend. Fairly certain the Alpha of the New York Trinity North would castrate me before The Council themselves if I let anything happen to his beloved vehicle. If it be important to you, you can escort us to the Alpha and his mate after I handle the business of parking and securing the truck."

Emma shot a confused look to Killian, he may love to talk but even that was wordy for _his_ normal patterns. The hairs on her neck tickled with anxiety.

"Escort?" Apparently, it confused the blonde man with a simple smile more.

"Aye mate. Follow us to the slot if you so prefer. That way you can honestly and proudly claim to have seen the vehicle to its resting pace, while giving the added attention of seeing the lady and meself to the sanctity of the abode."

The short man furrowed his brow in consideration (maybe a deeper confusion) before he looked up and resumed the smile that seemed as natural to his expression as air is to breathing.

"Right then," Killian continued, "Is there a particular level the Alpha had designated for us, or are we allowed the first spot we find?"

The little man blinked. "Oh! Um… anywhere on the second level."

"Good man."

The gate lifted, finally allowing Killian to drive through. The man with the simple smile jogging behind them at an easy pace.

Emma jabbed a thumb in the general direction of the simple man, her tone holding a bit more bite than she intended. "What was all that about?"

"Oh, sorry. I like knowing exactly where my escape is located, and handing over the keys to said escape isn't a habit of mine."

That didn't help her anxiety levels. "And the excessive wordplay?"

He looked at her sideways, "Yes… well… He was given an order. I had to convince him to do otherwise. That one in particular isn't all that bright, so big long words tend to work best. I could have forced him, shown I was more dominant. But that would be bad form. And I hate having to apologize to Snow."

It made enough sense, so Emma tucked it away for a minute. "Is her name really Snow? Were her parent's hippies or something?"

Killian chuckled. "No, it's a nickname. Mary Margaret Nolan is her name."

"How'd she end up with a nickname like 'Snow'?"

"Now that, is a very long and convoluted tale. One best told by the lady herself, and one she has no problem sharing when asked _properly_."

"That's what Ruby said."

The truck slid into its spot, though neither of them moved right away. He was watching her again; Emma did her best not to wriggle in her seat.

"Inis dom, solas na gréine."

"What?"

Killian grabbed a hand of hers away from the other, bringing it to his lips. A new habit he seemed to be picking up. "You're unsettled again. Tell me."

"It's nothing really, new girl in school again. I may not have the perks of being… well, you… but I can tell when you change how you are. Considering all that's happened, I think I'm allowed to feel nervous if you don't feel safe enough to be you."

A smiled splayed against her knuckles. "Too right. My apologies, mo cheann stór. It was only as I said; we have nothing to fear here."

"Just… don't leave me alone. I don't do well with new people."

He tsked. "Pack house means wolves everywhere and we can all tell a lie. Don't start now."

Emma huffed. "New people don't usually do well with me."

"You may believe that if you like, but I'm proof it's not as true as you think." He sighed. "I will have to leave you for a time right away; David and I have introductions to make. I'll leave you in the care of Snow herself. No one within these walls will oppose her." When Emma didn't make a sound he added, "Granny helped in Snow's upbringing, much like you; if it helps."

Emma's mouth tilted in what she hoped was a smile. "It does."

"Brilliant." He burst from his door, jogged round the hood, and reached her door before she could unbelt and touch the handle. He wrenched it open, holding out his hand to her. "Shall we go then?"

* * *

Short and blonde took them to the door, where he was stopped by short and bald. This new man was cantankerous looking with a decent beard in growth. He took to chastising the blonde one for not following orders precisely. Killian took a single step forward, accepting blame in a cold voice. Short and bald kept his scowl, but backed down. From there, the angry one brought them inside and through a maze of halls to a study of some sort; bookshelves took place of standard walls, except for the one that held the fireplace. That wall boasted framed photos as well paintings of people from all sorts of decades; centered above the fireplace was an older photo of maybe thirty years. A kindly fair-haired man sat next to a pale woman in long, dark, curling hair marking the time it was made. Wide smiles on them both and in the woman's arms was a newborn child. They had dressed it in one of those odd white nightgowns that could be worn by either gender that young. Pangs of envy went through Emma's chest seeing the happy family, while a voice challenged somewhere in her head that all children should be loved like that. Killian's hand landed on her shoulder, pulling her away from the photo under the pretense of showing her something interesting on the other side of the room. The move was obvious, but she neither did she try to stop him, letting his voice run over the envy like a balm. The doors opened and Emma took notice of three things. The man coming in was the same from the painting, not having aged a day. The woman on his arm looked old enough to be his mother. The woman on his arm was the same from the painting, having aged like everyone else. Still beautiful with her silvered hair now in a pixie cut rather than long waves. Skin still glowing in its pale coloring, though beginning it's wrinkling at her neck and hands, showing only a dusting of occasional age spots.

The man groaned; the woman beamed. "Told you she'd figure it out. Now pay up."

The old woman held out a hand. The man opened his wallet. Killian burst out laughing.

"Am I missing something?" Emma stepped closer to Killian, not enjoying being the tool of a bet amongst strangers.

But the older woman came rushing over which, for her assumed age, was impressive. "Oh no sweetie, nothing like that. It's a thing my husband and I do to help keep things interesting between us. People look at us now and assume I'm his mother or aunt. It's depressing knowing how old and craggy I look when he stays oh so pretty, so we play a bit. Had nothing to do with you."

Eyebrows high, Emma looked to the man, "You bet that people will see her as old and craggy?"

He smiled wide and sure, "Only because I know they'll prove me wrong and see my wife for the gorgeous woman she is, just like I do."

Calming his tittering's, Killian introduced everyone. (Emma stamped down the ridiculous urge to curtsey.) David and Killian strode off to handle whatever manly or wolf-ly business they had to; Snow brought Emma to a closed in seated area just off of the fireplace (lighting it for good measure), demanding to know all manner of personal details that never delved too deep. Favorite restaurant, duties of her job, what living in New York City is like… so on and so forth. Emma didn't mind the questions, mostly. But it didn't take long for Emma to feel on display for the older woman.

Snow cocked her head to the side, reading the discomfort as easily as Killian could. "How about you ask me a few things now? I'm sure you have plenty of things you'd like to know."

"You're human." Emma didn't mean to blurt it out, but soft tactics weren't quite her style either.

Snow (thankfully) didn't take offense, going as far as smiling at the observation. "Yes. Wolf-born, as was my father, and every generation back in my line back to when the first Vikings came to these lands looking for new spoils. But unlike them, I haven't taken the Change. Being a wolf has its advantages, but so does being human."

"Well… shit."

Snow laughed. (Again, thankfully.) "Well said. It seems intimidating, but someone of the family line has always survived the Change. Since I was my father's only child, and since the death rate for a female's Change is higher, I chose to remain human. Women can't be Alpha's… yet… nor can a human, so I mated the second in command to keep the politics and stay with the only family I've ever known." Snow winked, "Helped that I was in love with him too. The pack has never had an Alpha be someone other than one of my line, I guessed I messed that up."

"Now that's not true." David spoke from behind them. Emma jumped, still not used to the silent way these people moved around. (Momentarily thanking Ruby and Graham for making as much noise as they did.) He winced, holding out a hand to Emma's shoulder. "Sorry, I'm not around humans all that much –Snow excluded– and I forget that normal folks can't smell me or hear me once I enter a room. Killian had a call to make, said he'd be here as soon as it was over. And since the reason for the call is my fault, I'm to take –and I'm quoting here– 'Whatever ire she might bestow on you, thank her for it, and then give her any compensation she desires.' Care to tell me why Jones is giving me orders in my own home?"

Emma was sure David meant to come off as authoritative and upset, complete with folded arms and stern face as he came around to stand next to Snow in her chair. It was effective, and no doubt worked well on others. But Snow was rolling her eyes, and the idea of Killian bossing around _another_ Alpha for her sake was amusing, so Emma smiled wide. "He's protective is all. The wolf that's chasing me has done some screwy things, Killian gets edgy leaving me alone now."

"Tell us." David and Snow declared in unison.

"Um… I don't know if I'm allowed, or if I'm comfortable telling strangers any of the details."

Snow leaned forward, a soft and wrinkled hand resting on Emma's knee. "Call Granny. Call Graham or Ruby. Get your assurances however way you need. We might be newly acquainted, but we might as well be family. I lost my mother when I was young; Granny stepped in when things got bad. Ruby and I were kids together, sisters in every way. Graham has saved my life more than once. I owe them both more than I can ever give back. If keeping you safe is important to them, then it's important to us. Everything you say stays with us and us alone."

Emma stared, not used to such open loyalty so quickly. "Alright, but I don't want to make Killian's job any harder either."

David's posture relaxed, "If you prefer it, then we can leave Jones to tell us about the guy coming after you. But there are territories at play here. I'm Alpha and these are my hunting grounds, this is Snow's legacy, and we've been asked to help keep you safe. I don't want to misread Jones if he gets jumpy over you because of whatever reason. If you can tell us about the times he's shown his inclinations to protect you, we can get an idea of where his lines are drawn."

So Emma told them of the time Killian changed because Walsh sent him a photo of her sleeping, watching both Snow and David became stiff in their places. Of the time he near changed in Central Park after Walsh had grabbed her, including Killian forcing her to shower. Snow remained regal in her chair, David's soft eyes bled into hard gold. Emma spoke of the testosterone contests with Graham after the Park, David began pacing in front of the fire. Of the drive over by the field, where David interrupted and asked for every detail she could remember. Even this morning's reluctance as a wolf to take care of his basic needs when those needs would leave her alone. Snow never shifted a muscle from her place on the chair, but Emma's focus had moved to David. His increasing agitation to her tale was something she hadn't expected.

"David honey, you're scaring her. Calm down before Killian comes in here, smells the both of you, and assumes the worst."

Emma chanced a look to Snow, "Did I say something wrong? Break a rule I didn't know about?"

Snow waved her off. "Of course not. While he understands there are cruelties in the world, my David takes it personally when it happens so close to home. He thinks he can save everyone if he just gets in front of it soon enough. Our mutual friends makes this close enough to home for him, especially now that you're within our borders."

The bells in Emma's head were clanging. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the entire truth either. Something else had set David off, and Emma wasn't to know about it.

Snow clapped her hands once, "Now, I was told that you two were planning on heading home soon. It's not something that I'm letting happen though." Emma opened her mouth to argue, getting cut off before a sound was made. "We're having a ball tonight, and I insist you both come. And since the ball is for me, I'll be insulted if you refuse. You wouldn't want to insult an old woman would you?"

Emma stammered, "No, but…"

"It's settled then. I'll arrange rooms for you both; it'll give you a place to shower and change. You're both more than welcome to spend the night of course."

A small glimmer of triumph rippled through Emma, "I don't have anything to wear, nothing remotely appropriate for a… ball… so–"

"You can raid my closet all you like. Or if you want something that hasn't been worn before I can send Ashley out for something." Emma was given a quick glance up and down. "Yes, I think I'll send her out. My things would fit just fine, but you should have your own. And if it needs fitting, we can fix that here."

"I don't think Killian wants–"

"Wants what, love?" His strides –at first loose and easy– became clipped in that militaristic way of his when he got closer to them. "Dave?"

David –having stopped his pacing– stood staring at the fire, his feet shoulder width apart, hands resting on his hips. He didn't turn, didn't move. His voice soft and disconnected. "Snow convinced Emma to attend, or mostly did. You'll both have temporary rooms set up for the night. I won't have either of you driving tonight, not with everything going on and when we have so many wolves here to help. Did you get a hold of him?"

"Aye. Swan?" Killian was holding his hand out for her. His eyes flecking white, never leaving David's back. "Love, how about you and I take a walk about the grounds, stretch your legs?"

Emma slipped her hand in Killian's, moving to his side if only to escape the growing tension.

David stopped breathing.

Snow unfolded herself from her chair. "Actually Killian, since you both are attending the gala tonight, I have some prep work to get Emma through. Perhaps you two could tour the grounds after breakfast tomorrow? It'll be cold, but Brookside is beautiful on the cold mornings of fall."

Killian's hand gripped Emma's, his eyes never leaving David.

Emma touched her free hand to his chest, just above his heart. "I think I'd like some pampering Killian. Been a hard couple weeks…"

Killian's nostrils flared briefly before he managed to shift his attention to her again. "Certainly Swan." He tugged her hand still encased in his, pulling her closer and earning a soft rumble from David's direction. "It appears I still have business here with our hosting Alpha. Keep your phone on and stay with the Lady Snow." He turned her hand so their arms twisted around each other, brushing a kiss to her knuckles, switching his attention to the older woman behind Emma. "Milady, if you'll pardon my candor, I expect relaxed muscles, soft hair and skin, and by the Gods a smile on this woman when you finish with her."

Snow laughed warmly. "She won't leave my side, until the duties of tonight bid me to. And if my work is unsatisfying, you call the tariff."

A smirk played at his lips as he switched back to Emma, his summer eyes holding mischief instead of ice. "See you tonight."

* * *

The women left, arm in arm, heads close together discussing heaven knows what. David was an ally and sometimes a friend, but the sudden possession of Emma he was showing had Killian's wolf was pacing inside of him. David had yet to move from the fire roaring in its hearth, further inciting the urges to stalk along the study's floor.

Killian had planned on a mild rage against the mated wolf, but David beat him to it with his soft voice. "That was an unexpected reaction… didn't even notice until she started getting scared and nervous. Took me by surprise as much as it did you. It isn't what you think though. She smells like…." David's breath caught, "…like someone who was once mine, a long time ago."

"Swan smells like an old girlfriend?" The thought wasn't helping a damn thing.

David chuckled humorlessly. "No. Nothing like that. My pack and I are at your disposal; Emma will be safe and protected as one of our own, for however long as she needs us."

Killian, nor his wolf, were so easily mollified. "So you said earlier _before_ meeting her. Feeling protective is one thing, what you did back there is another." He made a disappointed clicking sound with his tongue. "Picking out a new mate before Snow's passing are we?"

David was still built like the 1920's boxing champion he once was, so the fist came and connected as Killian expected. The hit was aimed and carried enough power to only hurt and damage Killian, and only enough to slow the man down. Which meant David had pulled the hit. "Speak that way of either of them again _Captain_ , and I will force you into your wolf form and have your fur painted with silver."

"Quite hostile, aren't we?" Killian's words were mumbled through his realigning teeth.

"Just so we're clear." David's eyes flashed gold. "Leave it for now Jones. It'll keep. Does she know about you though?"

Killian's jaw ticked away. "Not entirely, though I'm sure she's figured out there's a mutual attraction bigger than just a quick rut in the linens. It needs to remain that way, for her sake. I've sent along recommendations for her Change or integration over her disposal. Citing the wrath of Humbert and Granny, I assume it's safe to include your name to the roster?"

David nodded. "Might as well name the pack, she's going to be a favorite of quite a few of them."

* * *

Emma was escorted up to Snow's bedroom, which felt like it could fit the entirety of Emma's apartment and still have room for the huge custom sized bed. Snow had wandered off to make the necessary phone calls for summoning up the small army needed to help make Emma ready for the ball, so Emma made with the light snooping everyone does when presented with a new room to explore. The room was decorated to show Snow was a woman of the soft feminine variety, and a strange love for birds. The photos here were far more personal than the ones in the study. Candid shots of vacations and goofy faces. There was a little boy that grew into a teenage boy in most of them; Emma assumed it was the kid from the painting.

_Good for him._

"That's my Leo. He's off at college right now, learning God knows what. _He_ tells me his goal is to be a veterinarian, so he can help out more here at home. _I_ think he just wants to be able to tell his father what to do once in a while."

"You only had the one?"

Snow's face fell in a way that Emma wished to take it back. "Female werewolves can only breed during a mating heat, something that happens once every fifteen years or so. Drop in the hat to them, but the pregnancy doesn't always hold. Some of them just refuse, not wanting to go through a miscarriage over and over. Human mates conceive more often, but we suffer the same problem of not keeping the baby. Wolf-born like me have a slightly better chance of going to term, but it doesn't help each time. It's why I never took the Change, why many women among us don't. Our chances for having our own kids are higher as humans. I have had six miscarriages, and two children. My first-born was… she didn't live to her first birthday." Snow smiled sadly, "She'd be about your age, I think. Forgive me if I fuss over you, I didn't get to do this with Leo. Not the dresses or other things that only mothers and daughters get to do."

"Well, I'm not the ruffles and lace kind of girl –well, not with my clothes. But if you promise not to get crazy on me with it, I wouldn't mind you fussing a little bit."

Snow looked like she was about to cry, "You don't seem like the type to tolerate fussing of any kind."

"No, not really." Emma shrugged, "But I didn't have a mom growing up and didn't find Ruby and Granny till I was almost done doing that. Two birds' one stone."

Snow went for the hug, repeating "Thank you!" over and over.

* * *

Ashley was a pretty and perky young woman toting a few large portfolios of dress designs. She owned a bridal shop in the main town, and kept a small collection of evening dresses on hand for prom rentals and moments like this. It was too late to make one from scratch, but Ashley was sure she could alter one in time, so long as the enhancements weren't too elaborate. Some quick measurements were taken of Emma, and then Snow and herself were whisked into a bathroom that should frankly, have been illegal if they couldn't provide one to everyone in the United States. It was almost as big as the bedroom, even having smaller separate rooms for the different functions. The first and main room was currently set up with two masseuse tables showing the reverse gowns used in hospitals folded neatly on the beds, and a medium copper tub steaming with hot water.

Emma pointed at the bucket, "Is… is that…"

"Hot Stone Massage? Oh yes. I found it helps with my joints during these cold winters. I called Ruby and asked her what you preferred, and she told me that you were recently injured." Emma must have had a face on again because Snow rushed to clarify, "Not that she told me what happened or anything. Just that the hot stones would be better than deep tissue."

Emma forced her face to relax; she had agreed to let some fussing happen after all. "It's fine. Just… don't freak when you see it. I haven't really seen it cause it's on my back, but I don't think I'll be winning any beauty pageants with it. Is there somewhere I could change?"

Snow gestured to a closed set of doors. This room was a small like a closet, but obviously designed with changing clothes in mind. A clothing rack, a few hangers, a shoe rack, even a chair to sit in.

_Money must be nice._

Emma came out to find Snow had already switched into her gown and was talking to a man just outside the doors in quiet and firm tones. Emma knew when orders were being issued so she kept quiet, exploring this room like she had the other. Framed forest scenes sat against sage green walls. It lacked the personal effect of the bedroom, but it was definitely meant to calm and center a person. Emma stopped at a picture of a standing tree, a gaping hole in its trunk, though it didn't go all the way through. She didn't know why she stopped at that one, it looked sad and a little frightening. But there were many things she was drawn to where Emma couldn't explain the reason.

_Good-looking, blue-eyed, smooth-talking Irishmen for example. And the end to that line of thought happens now…_

"Emma?" Snow called, but it was soon followed with the tones of concern and pity that Emma hated. "Oh _Emma_ _!_ "

So Emma turned, hiding the scars that will keep Walsh with her no matter how much she moves on from this. Snow did indeed have pity in her eyes, but they weren't filled the cheap kind that lasted less than a moment. This was the look Emma got from Ruby and Graham; Snow hurt for Emma with only having known her for less than an hour. But then the pity hardened. Snow met Emma's eyes, spun, and dropped her gown to the floor. She had her own scars, reaching from her mid-back, and down her left leg. Burn scars. Healed, mostly faded, and partially hidden with Snow's advanced age. But there wasn't mistaking the bubbling and grafting that had taken over the woman's body.

Snow crouched and gathered the gown back on herself. "I didn't mean to see, and I know how pity feels when you aren't ready for it."

"So you showed me yours?"

"I don't assume it's the same thing, or one is worse than the other. Pain is pain; neither is reduced because the circumstances in the other might seem more tragic or invasive. I wasn't trying to even us up, but it's only fair that I share the burden of embarrassment."

Emma waited until Snow faced her again. "You're just a little weird aren't you?"

"I am if it helps."

"It helps." Emma smiled.

Snow beamed. "Great. I sent away the masseuses; I didn't think you'd be comfortable with strange men. We'll be getting the women soon enough. Then it's into the bath with you, you get a thirty-minute soak, followed by a hot shower. Once you're done, the tables will have been moved out and the chairs brought in. You'll be plucked and waxed, while Johanna works on your hair. Ashley should be back with your dress then, and then Dawn will be here to do your make-up. It'll be a blitz run, but it's not like they can end the night without me, so we won't miss much."

Emma didn't have a chance to say anything as the women meant to soften her up had arrived. Her back protested the weight and heat of the stones at first, but with the masseuse familiar with wounds, it didn't take long for the woman to coax Emma's body in compliance and feeling fluid within its skin. For the first time in weeks, Emma's back wasn't thrumming out a dull ache. She wanted to cry in the relief, but her body took the opportunity for sleep instead. They woke her for the bath, where she sat in oil-infused waters. Nothing was scented, just softened. The moist warmth pulled her under again, almost literally, but the masseuse had remained on hand to prevent it. The rest was a blur of feminine activity, beauty rituals, and overlapping conversations. Ashley returned with the dress, complete with shoes and the appropriate undergarments. It had to be an original creation of hers; done in a deep emerald, it offered full coverage of the back ( _thank god_ ) with a boat neckline. But the front had the neckline cowling down to show just enough cleavage to be teasing. No sleeves had her worried for the cold, but she was assured that with as many people attending, Emma wouldn't feel it. It had enough skirt to billow out when twirled without feeling like she stepped out of a Disney film.

Snow was clapping and snapping pictures when Emma was deemed finished. Snow blamed Ruby for the photos, and ushered Emma in front of a full-length mirror so she could see herself.

"So Emma, do you think Killian will approve?"

"How about _I_ approve and Killian can shove off if he doesn't?"

Snow looked smug, "That's my girl."

On impulse ( _because why not_ ), Emma spun and hugged Snow. "Thank you."

Snow returned it fully, "Anytime Emma." She pulled out of the embrace, "But really, do you think he'll like it? I know it's old fashioned, but I still think it's good to try and please your mate."

Emma heard the record scratch in her head, "My what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In the Disney movie Sleeping Beauty, they said the princess was named for the dawn, they named her Aurora. So Dawn = Aurora. Ashley is still Cinderella.


	18. …Vexation...

**Chapter 17:**

… **Vexation...**

* * *

_Two days earlier:_

Walsh burst through the front door of his motel room, anger seeping from his pores, his change hovering just behind him. It hadn't been them. It had been the other girl, the _tainted_ one, the one he wasn't allowed to touch. Grandmother had been wrong. He paced in front of the cheap bed, his brain stuck on a loop, feeding the frenzy stinging at his flesh.

_Grandmother was wrong._

_She ruined this; let my sweet girl go._

_My sweet girl is with The Captain… and he's going to contaminate her._

_Grandmother was WRONG._

There was a wet pop as one knee bent backwards, collapsing Walsh to the floor; his change finally overtaking him. His mouth opened, releasing the screams ripping from within. Muscle tore, veins twisted. Only a third of the way through his altered state and at the height of his pain, and the room froze, time stopped and held Walsh in the agony. His cries silenced, burning his throat for their release.

"Honestly dear, you should learn more control. In more ways than one, I see. Will you never learn how to hold back your temper?" Grandmother strolled from her hidden place, around to the malformed head of the creature known as Walsh. "The sheer amount of noise you were making, I had to consume quite a few people. Not that I mind doing that, but the quality of this… _dwelling_ … well, I could find better food in the gutter. You made me take them. Do you think that makes me happy Walsh?" Her hands drew symbols in the air, "You understand don't you dear? Grandmother has to punish you now."

Slowly, in horribly measured paces, Walsh's change reversed. He felt every microscopic alteration; Grandmother made sure of that. But she didn't allow his screams. His punishment was for his mind and body, not her ears. What had taken him roughly ten minutes to achieve, she would force into an hour of undoing. "To think about what you've done wrong" Grandmother would tell him in those first days. Walsh had learned the hard way that when he was stubborn and let his mind wander, she would punish him further. Grandmother always knew when he had thought about his bad behavior or not. He tried to focus as hard as he could, through the pain she gave him. It made him stronger, better. He would only be better after this.

_I can't wait to show Emma how to be better._

Grandmother held him in suspended pain again, he hadn't been thinking of his mistake, but of golden hair tangling as his sweet girl writhed with him under these lessons. Walsh forced his mind to concentrate on his errors, finding many and hoping at least one of them was the reason for his punishment. He even thought up ways he would change his reactions and choices to better please Grandmother. She held him in his punishment for two hours before she released him to his human form. His body slick with the sweat of endurance, panting for air to reach his lungs and limbs.

Grandmother knelt down next to him, cradling his head on her lap and in her hands, brushing a cool cloth against his brow. "Why do you make me punish you so? Why can't you be a good boy for me?"

Walsh gulped in air, "I'm… sorry… I'm sorry…"

"Oh, my sweet, you know I do these things because I care don't you? Now tell Grandmother what caused you to have such a fit."

Walsh breathed deep for a few more minutes, calming under his Grandmother's gentle touch. "It was Emma and The Captain. I mean it wasn't… the two that looked like Emma and him, I followed like you instructed. But it wasn't them. It was the Alpha and the dirty one." He craned his neck to look up to the woman that brought him peace, "How were you wrong Grandmother?"

She moved out from under him rapidly, letting his head fall back to the floor as she stood. He normally knew better than to question her, but she normally wasn't wrong.

"How presumptuous. Walsh dear, did you really think I didn't know whom you were following? Or why they switched on you?" She sighed, "Or where The Captain took your sweet girl?"

"You… you knew? You sent me after the wrong one?" Walsh staggered to his feet facing the older woman, "You _lied_ to me?"

Grandmother flicked her hand and Walsh fell once more to the floor, her magic locking him into a contortion unnatural for man or wolf. "You never were very good at hunting Walsh… such a pity." She sighed, thoroughly put out. "I told you what you needed to hear. Now they think their ruse worked, that they have a lead on you and time to prepare for your coming. Now your prey will fall into a sense of security and control. Prey makes mistakes when they think such things."

Another flick and his body bucked into its proper positions. He rolled to his back as soon as he was able, tilting his head back and exposing his neck.

"Thank you Grandmother."

* * *

_Currently:_

When Snow didn't immediately respond, Emma felt the familiar itch to run tickle her toes and heels. "Mate? Is that like a boyfriend or something?"

"…Or something. I'm sorry Emma, I may have misread you two." Snow clasped her hands, tendons in her arms snapping to attention; her only tell for the embarrassment lingering in the room.

Emma shrugged, "Killian's just protective. Nothing romantic about that." Her hands smoothed over non-existent wrinkles on the dress, feeling the itch creep up her calves.

"Kissing your hand is protective?" Snow's tone was deceptively simple and curious; emphasizing her point better than Ruby could with her pushing.

"No… that's just a Killian… _thing_. You know he's a relentless flirt, he does that with everyone." Emma turned back to the mirror, willing her attention anywhere but the conversation between them. He kissed her hand all the time; it was something he did when her nerves got the better of her. It wasn't…. _that_.

"Emma, I've seen Killian flirt. Personally, and up close –it's amazing that David and Killian get along at all with what Killian did. I've seen him flirt with _that_ intention, and as a tool to get what he wants. He doesn't behave like that with you. He looks at you like he's confused between laying flowers at your feet and a quick rut in a quiet corner." Emma spun back on Snow, jaw dropped against the lewdness of the older woman's words. But there Snow stood, dressed in her own gown of soft lavender, looking the definition of an innocent grandmother. "A word of caution?" Snow continued, "Even if his feelings are unrequited, I ask that if you find someone charming or engaging, you mind your flirting. I'm not telling you not to do that, just to pay more attention to it. The gathering will have two packs in house, which means plenty of quick tempers."

Emma gaped at her, "Killian's just protective." A lame response and a sad attempt to stick to the script Emma had built in her head concerning that man.

Snow smiled softly, "He's that too. You're right, I could be wrong. I have a habit of seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. He could be as you think, and only behaving like he is out of his loyalty to Granny and Ruby." Snow took a step closer, grasping one of Emma's hands, "But even then. Even if he's only trying to keep you safe, he's not likely to be ok with your consorting with too many strangers. And he's dominant enough to cause trouble here."

Emma nodded numbly. What else could she do? Every moment she felt she had adjusted enough to handle it all, something new trampled in and–

_***Knock*Knock*Knock*** _

A man's voice filtered through the closed door without waiting for a response. "It's time ma'am."

Snow sighed, "Thank you, we'll be along shortly." She gave Emma one more look over, finishing with an abrupt nod of approval. "Mate or not, I think Killian will roll belly up just to get a smile from you." Snow threaded her arm through Emma's and began a slow pace out of the room to the party already underway. "Now, a few more points to go over. I have a few Fae friends, you've been told fairies and such are real right? Good, well, these two are dear friends and I don't suspect they'll try to trick you, however, better safe than sorry. Fae cannot lie, but they can twist a truth in many directions. Pay attention to what _isn't_ said, as much as to what is. A name holds power with them, so accept what they give you, no matter how odd it might seem, hold back your full name for the same reasons. And never say 'thank you'. Many Fae take it as a literal I.O.U. You have to express your appreciation or they can get offended, but don't say 'thank you' under any circumstance.

"Given the situations all around, our entrance will be choreographed tonight. David and I will enter and greet the packs as if we were under normal circumstances. Then we are going to introduce you. You are going to enter, walk out to the center floor, and stand for a few seconds. Don't meet any eyes, but don't look to the floor either. They need to see that you aren't scared enough of them to drop your head, but that you aren't a threat either. David will come out to you then, and bring you back to us on the dais. This way everyone knows you are here under the protection of both Pack and Alpha. I suspect Killian will break from the crowd to join us, representing Granny and Graham's protection."

They were approaching the final turn when Emma found her voice again. "You have a dais?"

Snow laughed, sending a familiar warmth through Emma's body. "Yes, yes we do. This Pack House is old. Built back when those things were common for leaders to sit upon. It helps prove our point today, so don't knock it too hard. And after we've made our point, it will only be a party. Food, drinks, dancing…" Snow came to a stop at the end of the final hallway, "And since this party is for me, I demand that you dance tonight. You are safe here, you deserve to let go a little."

"Didn't you just tell me upstairs that I shouldn't _'consort with too many strangers'_ for Killian's sake?"

"Yes, but I didn't say none at all. If he isn't pining after you like I think he is, then it'll be no harm no foul. If I'm right and he is, then showing him he doesn't control you is a good thing. And _if_ what he feels is mutual, then giving him a reason to get on with it couldn't hurt." Snow winked in her mischief, "Men always need a little push now and then."

Emma snorted. "Don't let David hear you say that."

Snow grinned, "Why else do you think Killian flirted with me in the first place?"

* * *

The great hall stood proudly measuring near ninety yards in length, adjacent to the main house by way of long halls rather than shared walls. As part of the original construction in the first crossings across the ocean, it had the heavy beams crossing under the vaulted ceilings and carved wooden figures of warriors and Gods, heavily marking Snow's Viking ancestry. It had been modernized appropriately for electricity, though tonight's affair had the torches and candles burning; newer walls were in place where the fire had been, but only noticeable by those who knew what the hall looked like before. The effect had Killian thinking of Beowulf dressed in a three-piece suit. Windows were wide-open despite of the oncoming winter outside, not that anyone _inside_ would feel the chill winds. The room was teeming with wolves from more than one pack, and unless his nose was failing him, more than one Fae. Normally, multiple packs would have the space edging with tension and a tangible urge for violence; the Fae in attendance only whetting the appetite further. Instead, Killian watched from his spot as the individuals mingled and embraced each other more as one massive group rather than the separate entities they were. Deep inside, Killian's wolf begged to be included in the scene before him, feeling a long-standing envy and every denial for pack The Council had given him. Tonight, it stung more than usual, and Killian suspected it had more to do with his current case than a build up over the centuries. Killian was fighting the urge to assign blame for his personal ordeal, when the room fell silent and all heads turned to the raised platform on the far wall.

David stood, tall and noble for a man born on a sheep farm in eastern Pennsylvania, with Snow proud at his left side. Without shouting or needing the help of a microphone, David's voice boomed over the din. "Wolves. Fae. Ladies and Gentlemen. As Alpha of the Brookside Pack, I welcome you to our territory… our home. Tonight's celebration falls on an important day that this pack has honored for almost forty years. The day we reclaimed this pack and its lands from the grip of an evil witch. Tonight, instead of our traditional memorial for the fallen, Snow and I decided that it was time to honor their sacrifice by celebrating our collective victory.

"But before we commence with anything, there is another issue that has come our way. We all have heard of the wolf bringing too much attention to our world with his murders. He needs to be stopped if only to keep our secrets safe, but most importantly because no one should suffer the way he forces these women to. His latest attempt: failed. The wolf known as The Captain happened upon this wolf as he was beginning his torture of a new victim. She lay there, bleeding to death and rightfully afraid. Yet, she refused to be defeated as she berated and belittled the mongrel. More impressive is when The Captain moved in to rescue –rather than let her die to keep our secrets as stated by Law– she urged him to run, to leave her to her fate and save himself. Her bravery and compassion in the face of evil is all too rare for a human, but unsurprising when we learned that it was Ruby Lucas and Granny herself who helped influence who this woman has grown into being. The Alpha of the New York Trinity North Pack has sent along his plea –along with a wagging finger from Granny– that we help The Captain keep this valiant woman from further harm as his hunt continues."

Snow laced her hand with David's, continuing the speech as they proved that they were one mind in two bodies. "She came to us yesterday, already aware of who and what we are. She not only remained brave in front of David and myself, but respectful of a completely new world and its rules unraveling around her, in spite of the savage first impression forced upon her. She impressed both of us with her wit and grace.

"We know taking any of this on places the pack in front of a psychopath. We know that shielding her in any way gains the attention of The Council. We will hear out any grievances you might have, and offer compromises or solutions as we can, as many of you have human families to think about. But we also know that this pack has held these lands for centuries, and one deranged wolf isn't enough to give any of us pause. This pack, in all its incarnations since its infancy, has always taken a hero's path. Protecting those that need it, no matter the dangers. As we celebrate a past victory over evil, so will we offer sanctuary to someone in the grip of her own battle."

The doors opened, and Emma strode through. Head high and regal under the collective attention of every living creature in the room. She shone under the light cast from the torches and candles of the great hall. Though Killian's view was obscured through the throng of other people in the room, he knew Emma. She stood tall and stubborn, braced for the worst to come hurling at her in a room full of predators. Her feet planted and her arms loose at her sides. He waited for her fear to quicken the room, as did the rest of the wolves in attendance, but all she gave them was the sweet scent of anticipation to match theirs. Always ready for a fight his Swan. Waiting for a challenge –and rejection if he learned anything at all about her. A pleased and proud smile teased David's lips, and one broke completely against Snow's. His Swan had passed the unspoken test.

"Brookside Pack," David called as he strode down to Emma's side. Looping her arm through his own, he pulled her up to the dais to stand behind him and his mate. "As Alpha, I offer you Emma Swan. Adopted kin of Granny and Ruby. Friend of Alpha Graham Humbert. And now Friend of the Pack to us. She has our trust and our protection."

The silence held a moment, David's words sinking into his pack and the visiting one. But in all his years, would Killian ever have foresaw what happened next.

A woman with fire engine red hair stepped forward to the dais, taking place on Snow's left and one-step down. She turned to face the crowd. Her face was lit up in a bliss-filled smile, her skin held an iridescence not common to anything he had ever personally encountered; she was stunningly beautiful and sweet looking. Her eyes, however, betrayed her reality. In her eyes, Killian saw a tempest rage. Quite literally. Power, real power was contained behind that saccharine smile. Killian might never know her name, but he knew what Fae stood before him. The root of so many stories both horrifying and romantic. Mermaid… siren… sea witch… Killian could take his pick of titles, though he would never call a single one out loud. He had already survived the sea in his youth, he'd be damned if he tempted the Fates again while still on dry land.

Another woman, with platinum curls piled high on her head in a messy knot, followed suit; standing to David's right and one-step down. She spun in a blink to face the horde, shrugging her shoulders in an old habit Killian remembered well. Eyes as green as the baby grass of spring, wide and innocent. A jungle flower this one, softness and beauty concealing a painful death. Those eyes flicking from one wolf to the next, seeing so much more than bodies in front of her. He may recognize this particular Fae, but the confusion inside him only grew.

Finally a man, average in height and broad in shoulder, sauntered to stand on the lowest step and dead center of the growing group. Dirty blonde with a permanent smirk strewn across his face, and an eyebrow tilted high, daring the crowd as the two Fae women had. For the life of him, Killian couldn't fathom why _that_ man had joined the dais, without so much as a word to his pack. But there before the room, stood the Alpha of the one Nomadic Pack of Northern America.

It wasn't hard to suss out the intentions of the three, and Killian imagined the why of it would come to him later. He chanced a quick glance to Emma hidden now behind this small army and met her own confused eyes, begging him for some sort of silent explanation. He could only give her a nod and mouth to her that it was ok, shooting her a wink for good measure. Slowly, the heads of the crowd began to bow in acceptance of this woman and her place among them. A tinge of power came from someone up on the platform pushing the more reluctant wolves into obedience. Killian kept his head up until the very end, letting the group see the wolf in his eyes much as he saw the power in theirs. Pushing his own power out –not just for his own ego– and causing most of the room to drop to their knees.

David turned red in a moment of anger.

Snow gapped at him for his audacity.

The Fae of the ocean curved her brow at him, letting something spark in her eyes.

The blonde Fae huffed and rolled her eyes.

The nomadic Alpha stretched his smirk into a full smile.

It was only when Emma met his eyes again, that he crossed a hand to his heart and bowed his head in submission. She may not understand the power play he just performed, but the others did, and that was all that mattered.

There was a popping sound to the air, and all tension fled out the open windows. The two Fae women and the visiting Alpha turned to formally meet Emma, and the crowd turned back on itself to mingle and start the celebrations.

"Simply couldn't help yourself, could you Killian?"

He turned to meet the familiar accented woman, eyebrow high in feigned annoyance. "You know me too well love, for someone I've only met a handful of times."

The woman with eyes blue enough to match his own only smiled up at him. "And how are you Killian?"

"Curious to the display we received, but otherwise still devilishly handsome." He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned into the woman's personal space, flashing the smile he knew worked well on all other females. Though, this woman only rolled her eyes away as she tried to look disgusted by his words. Up until she looked back at him and giggled. Killian opened his arms, and pulled her in for a hug. "Belle darling, what brings you all the way out here?"

"David and Snow are good friends of mine. When they asked me here to help, how could I turn them down?"

Killian eased her back enough to look at her face, "Help? With Emma?"

"I see they didn't tell you yet. And given the amount of hyper-sensitive ears here, I won't either." She tapped her palms to his chest in reassuring thumps, "I will say that there isn't anything to worry about, and I don't have any doubts of the best outcomes. But you? Assassin turned noble hero? Since when do you save the damsel in distress?"

Killian scoffed and finally released her. "She was hardly that. I'm certain that if she hadn't been pinned without a weapon, Swan would have castrated that blight of a creature. I saved her yes, but I don't believe it was a heroic venture. She even said as much, that I should have let her die and killed him right then instead; she doesn't approve her survival over the trouble it caused everyone."

"That's because she's a good person. And good people don't tolerate the suffering of others very well. She might be willing to let go of her life so no one else will have to, but don't think for a second that your own self-sacrifice in this isn't as important."

Killian eyed Belle as if she had spoken in tongues. "And what sacrifice have I given? I'm dragging her through the states in efforts to both protect and draw out the wanker who wants her. I'm risking Granny's livelihood, two –no three packs now if I'm reading that display correctly, the ire of my handler, and the discipline of The Council to all involved."

"You're forgetting the burden you share in all this Killian. Yes, people are jumping in to help when you ask for it, but not unknowing of the possible consequences. You, however, have placed yourself in the crossfire directly without a justifiable cause other than to keep her alive. You saved a life! And knowing what punishments could fall down on you, you keep offering to keep her safe. Regardless of your hesitations now, you did a good thing."

"I'm no hero Belle. If anything, I'm the villain. I've ruined her life, and I risk others in the process. And before that I hunted and killed our own kind, and not always on orders. If I'm lucky, I'll get to go back to that life after this is over."

"Others might protect and block evil from coming their way. You remove the problem before they have to. A hero isn't always the knight in shining armor Killian. Heroes do the right thing, no matter how heavy it sits on the soul."

"Don't tell me he's morose during a celebration again." Belle and Killian whipped their heads around as the nomadic Alpha spoke. "Belle, I thought we had discussed your penchant for saving thieves and scoundrels."

Killian broke first, "And you their King or so legend says."

"Yes well, the story has become twisted and distorted over the years. Enchanting woman you've found yourself, Killian."

"Aye," Killian looked over to where the group had been only to find Emma long gone. "And just where might you have stashed her?"

"Oh not me. I'm mated to a beautiful woman that would render me lame should she suspect I even sniffed another female. No, Miss Swan was introduced to the three of us and became overwhelmed to hear our true identities. With Snow as escort, they took a moment out in the hallways. She _is_ yours then?"

Killian scoffed. "Have you gone daft in your old age Robin? The Council refuses me when I simply request a pack. What do you think they'd do if I requested leave from my duties for a _mate_?"

Robin said nothing, eyes reading Killian like he was tracking a hawk. "Indeed. You mentioned needing to pick my brain mate. If the Lady Belle doesn't protest, we should move on to somewhere quieter?"

Taking full advantage of the change of subject, Killian promised Belle more time to catch up before striding off with the notorious thief.

* * *

"Are you freaking _kidding_ me right now? I'm barely holding it together with my life turning into monster movie night on the SyFy channel, and you tell me those three were Ariel, Robin- _fucking_ -Hood, and… and… _Tinkerbell_ _?_ "

Snow smiled –which was incredibly unnerving for Emma, "Tink and Ariel are Fae, and have gone by many names over the…" She waved an absent hand through the air, "…well… however old they are. Fae have always interacted with humans, so it stands to reason that they would have influenced someone with a creative mind at some point. Those two actually like humans, making their influence a higher chance. In Ariel's case, more than once. Many sea creatures, of both benevolent and treacherous natures, stem from her. Her smile is quick, but so is her temper. Tink's temper can flare, but she's a pixie. Prone to mischief more than disasters. I recommend behaving respectfully around either of them though. Remember, Fae can be easily offended."

"And Robin?"

"How else do you think the legend of Robin Hood stole from the rich to feed the poor for nearly 400 years? He's an old wolf Emma, and usually, they tend to behave oddly when they get old. More reclusive, more temperamental, Robin is better than most wolves who are Graham's age. Mostly he's very easy going, and simply wants to enjoy the woods with his pack. Just follow the rules you've learned, and you'll be fine."

Emma's fingertips flew to her temples. _Granny mentioned vampires and Fairies, but Tinkerbell? Just let me wake up in the psych ward somewhere… for the love of God, let me wake up._

Snow voice came gentler, laced with caution. "Emma? Sweetheart, did you understand what happened in there at all? We weren't expecting that any more than you were. We certainly didn't ask for it. Believe me, my husband and I know better that to seek a favor from a Fae. But did you understand?"

"I think so? You two did the whole gathering of me and shielding me; bringing me under your pack's protection should I need or want it, like you mentioned." Snow nodded, urging Emma on with the rest. "When…. _god_ … Ariel, Tinkerbell, and Robin joined in, they were showing support in your decision."

Snow's head tilted. "Sort of. I mean, yes, they were supporting our show of strength to the packs by taking our side. But it also means, Emma, that they were offering you the same. Protecting our secrets is protecting their own. Walsh threatens _all_ unknown creatures. How hard do you think it would be for humans _en masse_ to believe in the Fae –or god help us, the vampires– if werewolves became known? If watching after you helps bring this wolf to heel, then it's in everybody's best interest to pitch in." Snow closed the distance, cupping Emma's chin in her still soft hand. "There is a personal attachment too. Ariel and Tink have been Friend's to the Pack since my ancestors first landed here. Robin has other connections to us –that gets a bit complicated. They offered their help, not just for themselves, but because David and I wouldn't have done it first if it wasn't the right thing to do."

Emma felt a dull thud in her chest. An old ache of someone helping for the sake of the greater good, never for the sake of _Emma_. A selfish feeling for wanting to be someone's priority instead of a catalyst. "So it was out of loyalty to you?"

"Yes." Snow's hand dropped, "But if I trust my gut, there might be more to it than just that, and they'll be just as loyal to you by the end of this. You showed them all in a single moment that you could be brave, without the arrogance of pride. Respectful, without cowering in fear. In a room full of predators, you showed you weren't the meal of the day without questioning that they could all do exactly that. You've made an impression. And given how little time you've had in our world, David and I see it nothing short of phenomenal."

"You're serious? All I did was what you told me to do."

Snow's mouth quirked to the side in a familiar manner Emma had trouble placing. "I'm not in the habit of exaggerating or lying Emma. I was raised by, and continue to live with, wolves –they can more or less smell what you're thinking."

"So I've been told."

"So while you might have done the physical part like I asked you, the rest was on your own. If you feared them, they would have known. If you were hostile, they would have known. You behaved as if you had been around our kind all your life rather than a few weeks. You gave great honor to Granny, Ruby, and Graham tonight. And Killian."

Emma sucked in a breath. The itch to run shooting up her legs faster than ever.

"I want you to know Emma, that even after all of this, you'll always be welcome here at Brookside. For a visit, or a more permanent stay. We can arrange a room here, or build you a small home somewhere on the grounds. I have a feeling you're used to a bit of space, and wolves have a habit of filling up a room without many being there. You'll be protected as one of our own. From bad boyfriends to The Council."

"I don't know. I don't think I could leave Granny or Ruby like that."

"Perfectly understandable. But the offer stands, and will as long as you live. You have a home here Emma, should you ever need it."

* * *

Emma left Snow for the anonymity of a large party. She wasn't sure how it happened, but here she was, more confused than the day Granny had dropped the first payload of weird on her. Killian wasn't anywhere to be seen, though if Emma felt like being fair, it would be near impossible to find him in this throng even if they had time to discuss a spot to meet. Emma wasn't in a mood to be fair. The hurt of being left alone burned under her skin, and Emma welcomed it like a cherished blanket to cover herself in. Emma eventually found the bar, sending thanks to whatever deity was listening to her complaints. She leaned against the gleaming wood, fighting the urge to lay her head against the coolness of it. Hopefully the wolves could smell her growing irritation, and maybe it would be enough to keep new strangers at bay. While alone might hurt, it was at least familiar and easy.

"You look thirsty."

Alone wasn't happening.

A glass of sloshing clear liquid landed in front of him and next to her. Emma glared at it, willing it away. "Not interested in a strange drink from a strange… whatever you might be."

"I didn't offer one. Only stated a truth."

Emma shifted her gaze to look at the intruder. Blue eyes stared back at her, but not the startling summer sky Killian was gifted with. These were softer and lighter, though held no less mischief and mayhem that Killian was disposed to. His hair was curlier, not Killian's straight hair that flipped only at its tips. Her brain clocking off the differences between the men like a checklist, finding this particular man lacking in comparison each time. It was somewhere between noting this man had more chest hair (it peaked out at this collar for goodness sakes, it wasn't like she had gone looking between the buttons) and that his ears were rounded instead of a curious point, when said specimen waved his hand in front of her face.

"Emma isn't it? You all right? You aren't going catatonic on me are you?"

"Given what I've been through recently, I doubt anyone would blame me if I did."

The man hummed, looking Emma up and down. He pursed his lips, sticking his tongue in his cheek taking a couple quick glances around them. His arm shot out, reaching behind the bar; grasping blindly at something Emma couldn't see. There was a click, and his mouth broke into a grin. His hand returned to the surface carrying a silver flask, quickly hidden again in a coat pocket. The same hand shot out again at a different angle, returning this time with a bottle of water, plunked squarely in front of Emma's face.

_At least it's sealed._

Her mouth curled, "What? Don't I get secret compartment liquor?"

The man's mouth twisted again as his hands curled around his original glass. "I didn't think you'd like a strange whatever-I-am giving you alcohol." His hand returned, held out for her to grasp. "Name's August. I'm human like you."

Emma took the hand hesitantly, "And yet, you can still shake. Sorry boy, I don't have any treats for you."

He leaned just close enough and spoke low. "Oh I'm sure you're full of treats for me to find."

Emma huffed, holding back the thoughts that Killian would have said a similar line, but far better. She pulled her hand to break the connection, using it instead to open her water and drink. Cold, heavenly water slid down her throat.

"So you're Killian's mate?"

Cold water spit from her mouth. "Why does everyone think that?"

"Well I don't know him personally, but I've read the stories on 'The Captain', he's not exactly known for his people skills. And from what other people are saying here, he's not one to travel any way but solo. The fact that he's keeping you close would be out of character for him. Unless you were his mate, of course."

"He saved me."

"He's saved lots of people."

"He was asked to keep me safe. By several people."

August hummed again. "But why keep you close? You don't think that wolf will come near you with The Captain hovering, do you? Why not hole you up and hunt on his own? And if you're meant to be bait, then why not dangle you out in the open so he can ambush? He's either keeping details from you so you don't question his methods, or he's botching this job on purpose."

"What makes you think he'd botch the job? Wouldn't that cost him his life or something like that from the big, bad, scary Council?"

August's head tilted to the side. "What else but love makes a man lose his good sense and logical reasoning? A man in love does many stupid and crazy things just to keep their chosen person around. A werewolf?" He shrugged, "While the man might be able to turn off his heart from time to time, the wolf in him has one priority. Keeping its mate safe and taken care of."

"You're saying Killian might be trying to finish the job, but his wolf is running interference to keep me around longer?" Disbelief ran through her nerves _. Killian wouldn't prolong this hell just for extra time. He wouldn't._

"Just a thought Emma. Something to ask him about after tonight."

"And I should trust the opinion some random werewolf I just met?"

August chuckled. "I already told you that I'm not a wolf, not yet anyway. I'm just a human, but I was raised in this pack. I'm more aware of the rules, the mannerisms; you'd be surprised how much a werewolf communicates in body language alone." He sighed, eyes looking over her face, "Look, I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm not telling you to stop trusting The Captain. I'm trying to tell you that with everything switching on you, you're missing some details. That's where the Devil lives, and that's where your devil will get you."

Emma stared at the man. That blanket of hurt wrapping tighter around her shoulders, taking on sharp edges of anger. Problem was, Emma couldn't settle on who or what was the source of it. August turned, leaning his back against the bar, ignoring her for his drink as he looked out into the crowd. It made her decision easy, who to be upset with. August had left the niggling bit of information in her head and it was August who was right in front of her. A quiet rage was beginning to boil low inside her, one she had intended to let out on this bastard who had just made her already complicated life so much worse. But his body stilled, his hand clenched his glass, and his head tilted down.

_Body language huh?_

That's when Emma felt it. Anger, and not her own, flowing around the two of them. She didn't need to look to see whom it belonged to, to know Killian had spotted them at the bar together. She'd ask someone later at some point the how's and why's of it –of her knowing it was Killian's own temper hitting them, fueling hers into something much more vindictive – right now she had to bite back. So Emma plastered on a practiced smile, one meant for bail jumpers and idiots at the bars who didn't understand "no". She leaned her body towards August, inviting and sweet, going as far as popping one foot to rub against her other leg.

"He's looking." Her voice was honey sweet, and low enough she hoped only the immediate wolves near her could figure out the words. "I don't know if I like that I know that. But I do know that he scares you enough that you dropped your eyes from all the way across the room, when you could have easily played dumb and acted like you hadn't noticed him." She reached out a hand and traced her fingers along the hand clutching the alcohol, "You're right of course. I've been far too trusting. I'm not normally, but when the people I live with–who are the only family I've ever known– tell me that I can trust him, following their advice seems logical doesn't it? And from what I hear, Granny's word is almost gospel among these wolves. What's done is done now, and I'll have to confront him about what you've said at some point in the near future." Emma leaned in closer, "I'm sure Killian will be _so grateful_ to know that I have so many people looking out for me now. Even ones neither of us knew about."

Warmth interrupted Killian's ire, and August tilted his neck, exposing his jugular. David's voice filtered through the air deceptively calm. "Is everything all right Emma?"

She pulled back, enjoying August's discomfort a tad too much. "Of course. August here has been very helpful."

"I'm sure he has. August Booth, retire for the night to my personal study. I'll talk with you there later on." August took long strides out of the grand room, allowing guilt to creep its way in her head in his wake. David crossed his arms, taking the few paces between them. "Were you trying to get him killed?"

Emma's head snapped up. "What? No, of course not."

"Then why were you openly flirting with him while Killian was looking?"

"Because Killian was looking." When David didn't move, Emma heaved a sigh. "August said some things. It upset me. Which wasn't hard to do considering everything else I have going on in my head right now. I took it out on both of them, I'm sorry."

David nodded. "August means well, but he tends to get ahead of himself. And usually lands himself in deeper trouble because of it. Why would you want to provoke Killian though?"

Emma winced. "Because of what August said. If August is right, then Killian deserves it. If August is wrong, the _he_ deserves Killian for stressing me out."

A grin poked the corner of David's mouth. "Doesn't sound like you're sorry at all."

"Oh I'm sure I will be."

David hummed. "Do you know how to dance?"

Emma eyed him carefully. "Yes?"

"Waltz?"

"No?"

David nodded once more. He grabbed Emma's elbow, guiding her to a far corner, dismissing the nearby crowd. "A quick lesson then."

She didn't resist. Not when it saved her from dealing with Killian for a while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You remember the part where I say I suffer word vomit? Yeah... this chapter is long (and I don't care what Onceuponataarna says, longer isn't always better). To put in perspective: From the breakfast spread, to now, and the majority of the next chapter, takes place over the span of a single day. Le sigh. Also, I've mentioned (somewhere) that there will be things I don't openly explain. The growing idea that Snowing might be Emma's true parents? I don't confirm or deny at any point during this fic.
> 
> Please feel free to ask questions here or on my tumblr (of same name) if something doesn't make sense. I'll call "spoilers" if I need to, but otherwise I'll try to give you what I can.


	19. …Trepidation…

**Chapter 18**

… **Trepidation…**

* * *

He could feel the distress slowly engulfing her, and though _that_ reality should carry its own weight into his soul, but it quite frankly paled in comparison against his need to bring her some level of comfort. Swan's unease came steady and as a tickle between Killian's shoulder blades as he traded information with the "Prince of Thieves"; details on Killian's current case and the full break down behind the meaning of this party. The itch became demanding in his attention and utterly oblivious to the necessity of his current conversation. He trusted Snow to keep Emma safe, so the sensation remained untouched… by himself anyway. It was his wolf, however, that kept its focus entirely on Emma through the walls and air separating the two them; ready to drag Killian to her side with or without his permission. Though thankfully neither his wolf nor Killian were willing to openly acknowledging the "why" of it. His wolf understood the intricacies as self-evident and not worthy of any conversation. The man knew that the level of intimacy his wolf craved for –and from– Emma would only be brutally severed by The Council, and so he refused to think too deeply on them at all. While there wasn't any further denying to himself that the depth of his feelings for Emma went farther than simply keeping her alive as tasked (and not in the familial direction his association to Ruby might suggest), it was with a near constant effort that he kept the forming bonds as platonic as possible. It was another rope to tie around his neck to keep himself anchored in a world he was forced to travel alone. And the world was better if he was anchored somehow to Emma than to be cast adrift with nothing of her at all. Killian brought the conference around to Walsh's lineage, more specifically the woman who had conducted Walsh's conversion, only managing to mention "Leena" once before halting everything before the flurry of reactions sparked from Robin. The Nomadic Alpha knew of the woman by more than just reputation and far more intimately than he preferred if Killian was reading him right. Robin went off in several versions of the English accent against the long dead female wolf. His agitation growing at alarming rates as he spouted things about "even after her death her chaos was still reaching out to the world", followed by a string of foul words (when spoken with such vehemence, they could be nothing else) in a version of English no longer spoken. It was particularly startling from a man not known to be so hostile.

"Listen mate," Robin bit out through a clenched jaw, "I'll help you with this. If this Walsh _is_ of that woman's line, I'll give you everything I've got. But we have David and Snow needing both us _now_. I know you weren't recruited, but the more dominant males at his side to help the better. I might even have an idea about who this 'Grandmother' could be. But I'd have to run it by someone else to confirm. Can this keep another day or two? Shelter her here perhaps?"

"Aye. But no longer than that. Walsh should be in the area soon if he isn't already. We only want it to _look_ like she feels safely hidden away; here she actually would be." The previous tickle became needle pricks over his spine, and the small stabbing sensations raced down his thighs. Killian stopped ignoring the panic coursing through her, his head snapping to look through the wood and stone barriers and in the general direction of the misery.

"Good." Killian felt Robin's ire racket down a few notches, though the sudden silence was no less worrisome. "If I may, perhaps I can help your… _other_ situation with Miss Swan." Killian refused to meet the man's face, wanting nothing more than to run from the room. But Robin continued on, "I'm well aware of The Council's current policies on human integration into our world, and I can tell you it'll be harder for her in more ways than one. I'm certain you've already submitted your recommendations to them... marriage or Change, yes?"

Killian wanted this conversation right now about as much as he would like a full body wax while wearing his wolf skin, but his normal evasion tactics would do anything or anywhere against this old wolf, so he nodded his confirmation to his old friend.

"Humbert's pack or here at Brookside, correct?" Killian nodded again. "I feel it would be a disservice to our friendship if I gave you less than my full counsel on something so obviously important. Humbert is a good man. Miss Swan would be close to the family she knows and in a place she's called home for some time. But Humbert would take her for his own if only to spare her from some of the more… _abrasive_ parts of our existence."

"No." Killian countered, "He confided to me just before we set out for here. His wolf didn't see Emma as its mate. He wouldn't do that to her _or_ himself."

Robin considered it for a moment, "Not given a choice no. But he would do everything he could to keep Emma safe within his pack. His wolf is more protective than he is, if that's even possible. He'll take her for his own, and make them both miserable." Robin breathed in, "Now David... David won't take another mate other than Snow. Ever. But he might push a marriage fairly quickly with one of his own wolves. He won't want to chance The Council revoking their decision. He's already begun setting things up for her, as one would do to adopt a child; and this long before anything can be decided. A bit odd the way he has become paternal over her, quite normal for Snow, but there it is. However, something like that could be smothering to someone like Miss Swan in the long run. Miss Swan would be content –eventually– but away from everything she knows, thrown into a pack that is incredibly old fashioned, and possibly forced into what would end up being an arranged marriage. It would chafe her."

Killian turned back to Robin, arching a brow of suspicion. "And just how could you possibly know how she'll react from only one introduction?"

Robin's smirk teased his mouth, "She strode into a room for all she knew was wall to wall wolves and didn't cower once. She has spirit that one, and would never enjoy sitting out on anything."

"And you're so certain you're correct?" Killian huffed.

"Oh Killian, you know I never miss on these things."

"The point to this? I know it wasn't to simply give me more regrets to choices I've already made."

Robin chuckled, amused by Killian's growing annoyance. "Only that I'd like to offer my pack as a third option. I could take her in my pack under the intent of marriage to one of my wolves, and never have to force it. My connections to The Council would give me more leeway and give Miss Swan time to adjust. My mate wouldn't allow a forced marriage no matter what The Council would say anyway, and frankly I'd enjoy watching them try to argue with her… I'd sell tickets to see them try to press the issue in person even. I'll teach her what I can about pack life: what a mating entails, protocols and all that nonsense. Until she becomes comfortable enough with what her new life has become. From there, a pack transfer. She'll be welcome to stay with me and mine, or choose any other pack."

Killian swallowed. It was a better compromise than anything he had come up with on his own. Safe and allowed to be herself.

Robin's smirk came back, "And while she's with me and mine, you'd be more than welcome to... visit."

_Bugger._

Robin nodded towards the door. "Go see what's bothering her Killian. I have my own duties to perform now."

Killian's face fell momentarily. "Tell Snow something for me?"

"Yes?"

"Tell her I haven't stopped looking."

Robin nodded once, and Killian was out the door. He followed the foreign itch like the invisible rope it was; slung about his neck, pulsing in a frantic rhythm all its own against his heartbeat. There were hard-set implications here that Killian would rather avoid, for her sake as much as his own, but his wolf was leaping for them. And he could no more ignore Emma in misery than he could ignore the Change when it called for him. It would be another argument to the walls later on, desperate to make his wolf understand that they weren't allowed these basic needs.

No home. No Pack. And most certainly no mate.

But when a wolf is hungry, it eats. When it's tired, it sleeps. When it picks a mate...

It was only when Killian reached the ballroom doors that Robin's words sunk in. Robin had known what was going on inside Killian, had known exactly what had distracted him.

_Fuck._

* * *

David was guiding her through the basic steps, teaching a simple waltz that could be adapted to more elaborate forms later. His voice was soft and encouraging, his eyes kind, his smile quick and easily triggering her own. Her stretched sense of reality, compounded by the strain August had given her, slid off her body with every step she made on David's feet. It wasn't that she was angry at August; she wasn't really. It was that he was _right_. Her faith in Humbert and Ruby had transferred to Killian in near equal measure without much thought. She hadn't even questioned it on her end. And while she knew very well that catching the guy you're after can take more than the few weeks she's been involved, there had been plenty of opportunities so far, and nothing done during them other than running in the opposite direction. But the part that bothered Emma the most was August's idea of _why_ Killian might be staling. She's be deaf, dumb, and blind not to notice that Killian enjoyed being around her; healthy hetero male that he was. Kissing her back the way he had in New York, was just to let her know he wasn't against a few rounds under the blankets. But love? Love never happens that fast. It rarely happens at all by Emma's accounting.

"You know," David broke through her overwrought brain, "Dancing with one man, while thinking about another is considered very rude in some circles."

"Technically Killian is a werewolf, so it doesn't count."

David tilted his head down to meet her face, looking from underneath his brows. It wasn't until he stopped dancing completely that Emma caught on that he was trying to make eye contact. David hadn't said a word about Killian specifically. She could have mentioned August –and his meddling's– and wouldn't have been lying, but it was Killian's name that flew from her mouth. A few moments passed where Emma was standing outside her own body, watching her face squish up under David's stare. She wished that if all these fantasy creatures were coming true, time-travel would suddenly become an option, and she could go back and _not_ say that. It didn't, and a glance back to David showed he wasn't going to be letting her words go unnoticed either.

David –bypassing her embarrassment – held both her hands in his and against his chest. "What did August tell you?"

Emma sighed. David wasn't Graham, but he had the same effect; she chalked it up as an Alpha thing. "Cliffs Notes? That I was too trusting of Killian, that Killian was in love with me, and that Killian was delaying Walsh's capture so he could spend more time with me."

David heaved a sigh of his own, a grim look settling on his face. "I'm going to talk to August. He won't bother you again. For now though, no, you aren't too trusting of Killian. Don't get me wrong, he's God's model of a bell-bottomed scoundrel, but he's as loyal as they come. I don't believe he'd prolong your ordeal just to spend time with you either. I _do_ think he's playing this close to the chest, but for good reasons. And maybe just a little too cautious where you're concerned. I don't know what he exactly feels about you Emma. But it's obvious to the rest of us that you're more than just the job to him. How you choose to handle that is between you and him." David looked up and over her head, his mouth tightening at its edges. "Snow and I won't be available for a few days. Something else was planned long before we got word of you. Something we can't put off any longer." His kind eyes were desolate when they returned to hers. "Funny that werewolves live as long as we do, and still there isn't enough time to go around. If you need anything my second will provide; his name's Lance. If things get bad before Snow and I can help again, get to Robin. His pack will protect you."

Emma nodded. "Not Killian?"

"I'm trusting Killian to be off killing the guy doing this to you." She watched his eyes flash gold before dimming back to their normal hue. "Emma, tonight's display wasn't just for this current problem. I know Snow already told you, but you have people here now. A home. Whenever you want it or need it." He hesitated, hands flexing on hers as he wrestled with a decision. He was quick to resolve it, and David let go of her hands suddenly, one wrapping around the back of her shoulders, and the other reaching behind to cup her head. He pulled her close, placing a chaste kiss to her temple before hugging the air from her lungs. "Be safe. I'll see you soon."

Emma stood dumb as he strode away. Not sure what _that_ was at the end. A good-bye of some sorts, but oddly done, and she was left without a way to decipher it. Emma had long ago met her quota of weird for the night. She wanted to be drinking and then drunk and then comatose. Hopefully in that order, on a bed and with a toilet within sprinting distance. And hopefully before the weird progressed into alien abductions with the creatures only seen in Japanese animated porn. (At this point she wasn't going to rule anything out.) But she hadn't moved yet, her feet not getting the memo to move.

"Hey beautiful." Killian's voice came from somewhere to her right.

_At least it isn't an alien._

She must not have reacted to him, as he was then very much in her field of vision and his hand was cupping her chin to tilt her face to his. His eyes were scanning… well… everything. Looking for something wrong that he could fix. He nodded slowly, agreeing to lord knows what, but to something only he heard.

"What?" Emma bit out. She may –or may not– have been so far into her defenses, that every second glance she got turned her into the stereotype confrontational New Yorker.

His eyebrow twitched up and that infernal smirk of his showed itself. Outwardly, he looked amused. His eyes however held a warning to her tone, though if it was because he didn't like it or liked it too much was up for debate. He remained silent, eyes never leaving her face. His left hand reached for her right, guiding it outwards, his thumb stroking hers. He stepped forward into her space, her left hand came up to his chest to stop any further advance. His right hand left her face, winding its way around her waist. He swayed them from side to side in a rhythm simple and matching the music currently floating in the air.

His face softened as he drew her in closer. "I never did get a proper dance on our date."

Air left her in a whoosh. At some unknown point, _this_ had become familiar. His eyes that saw too much and gentle touches that helped slow down anything in her head. The hand she held to his chest softened and her cheek fell to his shoulder as he moved her around the dance floor; the final remnants of her anger crashing to the ground. She hated him. He was a charmer with the Devil's smile. With everything she had to ask him now, he was making the world appear normal again. And for a moment, she was just a woman dancing with an obscenely good-looking man. She hated him because he wasn't the break she was planning for –or wanted, but Emma made it a rule to not question good fortune when it found her, so she took what the universe offered. She breathed deep, trying to force her head to stop pounding out its demand for adrenaline; she inadvertently breathed him in, rum and ocean and male. Emma caught her head turning to his neck (an action she blamed on the man's choice of soaps), and the pulse that beat out his scent. It wasn't his fault he smelled good, and no one would blame her for doing the same to a flower or candle that smelled nice.

His voice was low, coming from behind a stifled laugh. "You alright there Swan?"

She lifted her head away from him, "I think I need sleep. Too many new things to process all at once. I'd hate to ruin the night by having a temper tantrum."

He hummed, still moving her along through the steps. They had merged with the majority of couples dancing, all still dancing that ridiculous dance David had tried to show her. Emma looked back at him, his knowing smile only got bigger as he spun them in time with the crowd.

"H-how? I was breaking the bones in David's feet trying to do this with him."

"While I wouldn't belittle David's dancing skills openly, the Waltz only has one rule. One he tends to forget because he's had Snow by his side guiding his steps for so long." He spun her out, her skirt whirling around her, as his feet kept him by her side.

"And what would that magic rule be Killian?"

He embraced her again, leaning in his mouth just above her ear, "Pick a partner who knows what they're doing love."

There was a shiver that ran down her spine, and when it shimmied its way back up, Killian's breath hitched. He glided them to the dance floor's edge, bodies flush and his lips tickling her ear. "Allow me to escort you to your room for the night Swan? I do believe pumpkin time is fast approaching for you."

"Killian… that man I was talking to earlier, I know you saw, some of the things he said…"

He swallowed down what sounded like a growl, "Aye, I'm well aware of how upset he made you. And if that show you put on was any indication, much of what he said wasn't in my favor. I'll answer anything you need me to, but not tonight."

"Killian–" The hand he had kept appropriately above her ass, broke etiquette in sliding up, pressing her further into him as it settled on the middle of her back. Warmth flowed from his hand, seeping through the fabric, snaking its way into places it shouldn't.

"Your compliance to our intertwined paths was freely given, but your trust has been hard won, and I haven't won all of it yet. I'll be damned if I let that tosser rip it away from me. Whatever questions you have, I _will_ answer as best I can. But not tonight. You've had a pressing day. My change, this place, meeting your first Fae–"

A smile twitched the corners of her mouth, "Robin Hood."

His mouth mirrored hers. "Aye. Robin bloody Hood. And then someone casts doubts into your head to turn everything into hash. You were right; you need sleep. Let your head settle, then question the world again. Preferably after breakfast though, I hate fighting on an empty stomach."

She managed to nod once before he spun her around and walked her out the main hall doors. His hand remained in the middle of her back as he took her through halls and archways. A focal point of heat that let her ignore everything else for a few more minutes. A mixed blessing, in that now Emma was only aware of his hand on her back as memories of a kiss in an apartment danced through her head. Emma was turned to face a door, Killian behind her, now using his hand to keep her in place rather than to guide. His singular hand preventing her body from turning to face him.

She angled her head to look over her shoulder as much as she could. "Killian?"

His response was a primitive sound she hadn't a clue how to name, neither was it the answer she was expecting. "Swan, quick refresher lessons since you're around so many of us now. Thoughts affect your emotions. Emotions trigger bodily responses. Adrenaline rushes in excitement and anger. Sweat in fear and exertion. Among… _other_ … variations." His hand flattened completely on her back, as he took a step forward. He slid it up to the base of her skull, letting his fingers into her hair. "It isn't reading your mind, but an astute person wouldn't have trouble connecting the dots, finding their way to the origin thought based solely off the body's response." He shuffled as close as possible without touching her from shoulder to foot. "And your thoughts weren't very ladylike for the last three turns through these halls. It would be wise to learn a bit of control over those wandering notions; someone might get the wrong idea."

Her thoughts had gone from a singular kiss to several other ideas as he spoke. "And what idea did you get?"

His nose touched the crown of her head, breathing deep. "Goodnight Swan."

His free hand grazed her side as he reached past her and for the handle, opening her door and with gentle pressure pushed her through. It didn't stop her from turning once she was inside though, ready to demand answers once more. But his eyes weren't the right shade of blue, pushing him wouldn't end the way she wanted. Or it might end exactly the way part of her wanted, only to be left with even more questions come daylight. His eyes paled another degree as he visibly restrained himself from getting another inch closer to her.

 _Right. Time for bed._ "Goodnight then Killian."

"Swan?"

"Hmm?"

He hesitated a fraction. "Wolves can't really get drunk, metabolism is too high. But they can get rowdy. You might get woken by some howling and scuffling sounds. Keep behind your door, aye?"

He wasn't lying, but he wasn't telling everything. So she shook her head at him. "Try again."

A ghost of a smile crossed him. "You will hear howling and scuffling sounds. I am not allowed to tell you why. You're not in danger, not here. But keep behind your door."

It was as close as she was going to get right now, so she nodded. But August's words echoed again, and she couldn't help the spark of irritation that came, not when Killian was doing the exact thing August had warned about. Her eyes connected with his –now gone entirely white, "All right then."

She shut the door on him, resting her head on it as it clicked. The silence swallowed her, and Emma welcomed it. All she could hear was the pulse of her head and the rhythm of her breathing. Slowly, she brought them both back under control, until the throbbing in her head wasn't bigger than the one in her back. Emma turned, rolling along her head so she faced her room. A breath heaved as she kicked away her borrowed heels, thinking of the soft bed staring at her. Out of habit, her arms reached up behind her head to start removing the borrowed necklace and the pins from her hair; hissing as the throbbing became stabbing.

"Oh c'mon! Really?" Real tears threatened now, emotions simply too stretched to deal with physical pain.

_And I've sent away the guy who would have helped._

* * *

Killian was going on too long with not nearly enough sleep, and a break wasn't soon coming either.

He had waited outside Emma's door as she struggled with undressing. It was a lesson he needed to teach his wolf. She would hurt, she would need help, and unless she asked for it, they weren't to give it. She wasn't going to be what the wolf wanted her to be. Every curse that she growled caused his hands to pull at his hair. Every pained sob was a dance his feet performed. (One step closer, two away.) He knew he had to help Belle in the cages with David, help keep him sane. But leaving Emma before she had triumphed over her dress and found sleep, wasn't going to happen. At the time, it was the only thing he and his wolf agreed upon. And now, after a night of distracting an Alpha wolf in full rage, Killian was heading back to the woman that sent his own wolf in a fit. As exhausted as he was, he'd be a liar if he didn't at least admit to enjoying the feeling of being useful like this. A woman to fuss over, a pack to contribute to… duties and obligations other than hunting and possibly killing the next assignment.

Killian wished getting drunk was still possible.

Seemingly pulled from his thoughts, Emma turned the corner down the hall in front of him. Striding towards him in another dress she must have borrowed from Snow's closet. Something visibly soft and cotton looking. He mourned the chance to wake her and watch the sleep fall from her face, but thanked the listening Gods for leading her to another green dress. She was blood draining in red, but green played with her eyes and he was usually helpless to get lost in them. There was a fire in them this morning, unfamiliar and new. Her long legs moved with intent, a smirk played against her lips, and Killian began to question if he hadn't actually passed out somewhere on the stairs and this was a horribly elaborate coma-fueled dream.

She carried herself right to him, hands sliding up his chest, her frame aligning with his. She pushed him to the wall behind with a thud, causing his hands to fly up for balance. There really couldn't be any blame for the same hands landing on her waist after; needing to hold what was so willingly being given. Her hips push in again, demanding his full and prompt attention; her hands slid up, fingers dancing along the tendons of his neck. They carded back through his hair, tugging on the strands, sending tingles of sweet pain sparking against his scalp. Her lips eased to his, soft in their urgency. She was pulling him one direction, pushing him in another; his lips parted under her ministrations, a natural reaction he would later convince himself. His wolf howled within as Killian's senses filled with the briny call of the ocean he once commanded. The rickety sounds of a weathered ship sounded from the depths of memory, and his wolf raged. His hands clung to the waist of the woman –wishing– as his hips thrusted forward –wanting. Killian's wolf charged at its walls, refusing to be ignored for fantasy. Killian reluctantly conceded to his beast, acknowledging the truth in front of him. As satisfying as this _could_ be, truth can't be outdone by fantasy. He dragged his hands up her ribs, thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts. Up and over her shoulders, a whimper escaping her throat as his hands glided up its slim length, fingertips teasing her jawline. Bodily, he rolled them so she was the one against the wall. She let go of an excited gasp, breaking contact with his mouth finally. His hands tightened around her throat, his strength crushing her only air supply. Her hands flew to his, nails carving into his skin to make him stop. His hips pressed down on hers, pinning her to her place.

"Killian…" She choked out on stuttered breaths. Eyes glistening with tears, she gives him a new nightmare of Emma dying by his own hands.

His wolf vibrates within him, driving him forward through the pain of it. "Aye lass, that's my name. But I have yet to learn yours. Care to share?"

"It's me!" The pale skin began its tour through shades of purple; Killian nearly crumbled under the sight of it.

"I'm sure it is you, whomever you are. Tell me your name."

"Please… Killian…" Tears fell, landing on his tainted skin. He squeezed harder, barely resisting the urge to drive his claws deep inside her neck.

"Go raibh tú Imeacht gan teacht, is féidir leat Titim gan éirí leat fraochÚn scála. I am not a man or wolf to play with. Your name… or I apologize to my hosts for staining their floors and walls with your blood."

Emma's breath left on a sigh, her head lolling to the side in a tormenting visage of the first night he met her. Her chest stuttered under his, for a fraction of a second Killian died thinking he had hurt his Swan. Her stuttered breaths morphed into bubbling giggles that only served to reaffirm his wolf's current insanity. Giggles evolved into demented chortles, the gold spun hair blushed into a deep red; Emma blended into another woman under his touch. His fingers tightened further into her neck.

"Why Captain, such language! Beidh mé ardú i gcónaí nuair a thagann mé, beidh mé ar ais i gcónaí nuair a fhágfaidh mé. Tá mé an fharraige… agus cuirim fáilte roimh gach mo doimhneacht." She returned her hands to his chest, shoving him to the opposite wall without a visible flex of her arms.

"The bloody fuck you think you're doing Fae? Posing as Swan after just last night you swore to give her guard?"

The woman shrugged. "I do as I please with what is mine. And you were mine first. Before her, before your curse."

"I was never yours _soith_."

She smiled. Something so sweet should never sit on something so treacherous. "Most sailors become mine, but there isn't a pirate alive or dead that doesn't pay fealty to me. And you, Killian, were both." The brine filled the air, swaying Killian on his feet. "It's a cruel fate you've been given. A man born to sail my tides, cursed to never touch open water again. Find me an opening, and I'll gladly help remove the creature that stole my jolly sailor bold."

A huff sounds from his right, "He may have been born with your ocean in his eyes and blood Ariel, but he's a wolf now. His legs bend to the hunt, not the squalls."

Killian eyed the offensive Fae in front of him. "Ariel is it? Was that so hard?"

She hummed, leering at him from head to toe. "Deliciously so. Such a waste…"

Killian thrusted himself off the wall; this wasn't his Swan and he hadn't been in the mood to deal with Fairy games _before_ these antics, now all he desired was Emma, even if she was to be yelling at him for whatever August had said the previous night. A small hand encased his bicep firmer than appearances would deem possible, dragging him back to the conversation and in front of the blonde with too big eyes.

"Not yet lover boy. Is it true what I heard? That the woman we've been asked to help with is your mate? Don't tell me you're having trouble handling one human female now?"

 _More games._ Killian circled around Tink until she was between him and the water Fae. "Why do you need to know sweetheart?" He stepped her backwards, "Jealous that our romps would come to an end?" She collided with her friend, both of them wedged between him and the wall. "Is that what this all was? A tag team set up to see if the big bad wolf could come out and play? Shall we play our favorite game Tink? Where you –and your eager friend here– rub me down until we all find our happy endings?"

Brine filled the air once more as Ariel developed a shimmer along her exposed skin. "Féach ar do bhéal salach bastaird tú."

Killian's lips peeled back, showing his teeth more than his usual smile. "Why don't you watch it for me? Or are you hoping to feel it in those welcoming depths instead?"

A crack against his cheek forced his feet to step away from the Fae women. A sidelong look showed tempests in Ariel's eyes. Insulting any Fae is begging for death, only because what they come up with is far worse a fate. He'd care later.

"I'll take that as a no then? Don't fret my lovelies;" His hand slid to fondle his belt buckle, "I'll keep you in my… _dreams_ … through the night."

He needed to see Swan's face, needed to hear her breathing, somehow touch her skin and watch it flush with restrained heat instead of restricted air. He just needed her.

* * *

Ariel adjusted her glamour back to its normal image, flicking away invisible lint as she straightened the clothing. "So? Was that good enough? What did your eyes see?"

Tink leaned away from the wall to watch Killian make the final turn at the end of the hall. Rage spilling off of him as it had decades ago. "I swear Ariel if you don't go into acting again soon, I'm going to desalinate your chunk of the oceans. That was brilliant. Where did you learn to talk like that?"

Ariel shrugged, "I was the youngest of seven sisters, you think I didn't pay attention to the way they lured sailors to the waters? Just because it isn't my personal policy doesn't mean I don't know how to do it."

Tink gave a low whistle. "If your father knew the talents you kept hidden from him all this time…"

"Or not. Not works for me. Now what about him? Did it work enough for you to see?"

Tink nodded, "He's in deep the poor bastard."

"Pfft. Duh. But that display? That wasn't anywhere close to the hothead I remember. I made him choke his mate Tink, and he still maintained control. He could pull it off now."

Tink shrugged, knowing Killian was very capable of frightening amounts of destruction, even only a handful of years ago, without much cause. A fire without boundaries, destroying everything in the area, even the things he wanted to keep safe. "Maybe, still too soon to tell. He'd finish the job sure, but he'd end up as a sacrifice instead of what we need. He has these few battles in front of him, one of them –if he's successful– should make our goals easier to attain. Another one will help keep him off that sacrificial alter if he doesn't screw it up."

"So we help him then?"

Tink moved away from the wall, flexing her shoulders in an ancient tick she no longer paid attention to. "No. He needs to do this as he is, if he wants to keep her. I think we need that to happen or maybe we just need her to be able to trust him… still too muddy to see it all clearly."

"Shame… I know you'd love to get your own shot at the one causing all this."

Tink chuffed out a laugh, "Oh that would give me pleasure for another century or two easy. And not just for doing what she's doing this time around. No… we can't help him in this battle. But he will need us when he finally faces The Council. He'll have to go up against _her_."

Ariel shuddered, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Poor bastard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: People have been talking about things.   
> 1\. The mating thing: You will learn as Emma does. Slowly and in bits. And in some spots, sudden bursts of too much info.   
> 2\. Snowing being Emma's parents: I won't confirm or deny because it doesn't directly affect the story. Though I'm enjoying the ideas everyone has.  
> 3\. Sequels: I have a one-shot planned for Red Hunter taking place after they hang up Skype with Emma. I have a Snowing prequel semi-planned out. (shouldn't be nearly as long if we're lucky). An actual sequel though, is not currently planned. As much as my head would love to continue on in this verse, it isn't settling on a story line yet. So I'll wait it out and see.   
> 4\. Asking me things: Good god y'all ASK!!! Supernatural stories can be hard to follow when you aren't familiar with the genre/variation. I will tell you spoiler if its dealt with later, but otherwise I'm open to explaining things.


	20. …Transformation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know, I said we were down to one chapter a week. But a very amazing person came to me with an idea, and it brokers an additional post this week. (Yes this means by Friday or so, there will be another chapter up.)   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aruB52YHw98  
> The link will also be up in the description from here on out. Anyway, I was asked by a lovely woman if I would be ok with her making a fan vid for this fic. I'd like to say how wholly undeserving I am for it, and normally, I'd be telling her other fics that would be better to find inspiration from. (I'm still tempted) I haven't earned this kind of appreciation. As it stands, I gave the green light, and she came up with something really cool. So I am asking all of you, even of you only sorta kinda like this fic, please watch the vid at least once.

**Chapter 19**

… **Transformation**

* * *

Emma wasn't sure she was comfortable with this new day. She had grown so used to him just being everywhere and always arriving shortly after things got weird ( _Weirder would be a better word._ ), that when she woke that morning and Killian wasn't outside her door with a cocky smile, or hell something to eat, Emma felt a sort of disappointment. But the sun was barely cracking the horizon, so Emma pushed it away as he simply hadn't woken up yet to station himself somewhere in her orbit. The disappointment returned during the shower, when memories of Killian's own shower and gentle hands flooded her head; changing her mood from disappointment to feeling like she had forgotten something important. ( _Stop thinking of him in the shower ok? Ok._ ) The idea that something was missing returned again while she dressed herself in boots and a soft sweater for the chilled morning air, thinking of how Killian wouldn't require the extra layers in this weather. Those thoughts drifted to how warm his body temperature ran; changing her thoughts that something was missing… to missing him. ( _We were supposed to go for a walk along the grounds._ ) It took control of her entire mood, when he still hadn't arrived, and she was left to navigate this castle alone ( _Not like I'm not used to being alone._ ), and missing him became resenting him. Each variation assaulting her anew, as she got lost over and over again in the endless halls and rooms. It was only when she discovered a pair of glass doors that led to a well-maintained outdoor deck that her brief reminder of what PMS felt like faded away. The deck faced east, giving her a spectacular view of the sun climbing up and over the forest of trees on the property. There was a fire pit prepped for use, centered in front of some very expensive and plush seating. Emma wondered what kind of trouble she would cause if she went ahead and lit the thing, finally deciding that since Snow and David went so far out of their way to declare their home open to her, she might as well enjoy what perks she found.

_If only I found the damn kitchen and some coffee too._

Emma found herself alone, completely alone, for the first time in weeks. And for something so familiar, she wondered if anything had felt so foreign to her before. So she watched the sun glitter through the trees casting beams to cut through the slight fog creeping across the grass, she perched her feet to the edge of the fire pit and soak up its warmth into her toes; reacquainting herself with isolation. The air was brisk in her lungs, and there wasn't anyone catching her mistakes in wolf protocol. She heaved a sigh, tipping her head back against the top of the chair, telling herself that this was the break she had been wanting. No one chasing her or threatening her life. No one smelling her and telling her what she was thinking. No one telling her all the new rules she needed to learn. No one staring at her as if she was a living version of the _Mirror of Erised_. This was near perfect. All she needed was a cup of coffee to warm her hands. And maybe a bagel or two with whipped butter to soften. Maybe a plate of bacon. A book wouldn't hurt. Truth seeped in through her "maybes"; Emma closing and squinting her eyes against it.

_I'm bored. And alone. In a strange house-castle, with the things that go bump in the night. He promised he wouldn't leave me alone in here…_

Shaking away the morose shift in her mood, Emma opened her eyes back to the view in front of her, focusing on the natural beauty rather than him. It really was amazing, something that should be photographed and framed in a gallery. She watched as a moose moved out of the tree line, ambling along as fast as he liked (which wasn't fast at all), stopping to eat something it found, giving Emma a chance to stare.

"That's Sam."

Emma jumped. She hadn't heard the door slide open. Finding August standing there, didn't improve the surprise either. "Sam?"

"Yeah. He's kind of a Pack Pet."

"Are you going to explain that one?"

August slid his eyes over to her. "Wolves are the natural predator of moose. But that one doesn't seem to know that, or maybe he simply doesn't care. Either way, he can smell the Pack here, and still he comes. David felt that if an animal that was supposed to be prey wasn't afraid of him, then that animal deserved a chance to live out its days without threat of him, or his own. It was Snow that named him Samuel."

Emma huffed. "Sounds vaguely familiar."

He hummed. "I would like to say that they go out and collect lost creatures of all sorts to tend to. To give them a safe place to be, to give a family. But in truth, we find them. Naturally drawn to those that would protect us, even when we can do it ourselves."

"We?"

His head dropped as he shuffled his left foot a moment. He nodded, coming to a decision for himself. "I'm going to get a coffee from inside. Can I get you anything?"

"I'm not so easily bought off. Not by a complete stranger anyway."

He smiled a bit. "No, you wouldn't be. Not buying you off, just trying to show some manners. Especially after last night. And if you like, I can sit with you, enjoy the morning, and tell you anything you want."

Emma hesitates, "First tell me why you're being considerate this time."

A sly smile works its way out, "I was being considerate last night, but I see how you'd miss that. My delivery was off. I admit I was quick to judge the whole situation, not fair to you or The Captain when I didn't know all the details. But I had solid reasons to pass that warning along. I'm sorry for _the way_ I did it, but not for why I did it."

_He's telling me the truth._ "Alright, I'll bite. What were your reasons?"

He shuffled again, "During coffee? I stiffen up in the cold air, would help me to have something warm to drink down."

Emma narrowed her eyes, "Coffee, black. Bring out sugar and cream, I'll dress it myself. Bagel, lightly toasted, generous butter on top. Side of bacon if you can manage. You have fifteen minutes."

He nodded, moving back in the house with a visible limp on his right leg. He still made it back in ten. He put enough thought into it to bring out a folding table for her, eliminating her need to stretch and bend to put things on the deck floor. Though when she considered his limp, her folding table was likely an effort to hide the need for his own. It was awkward sitting with him. He was so very… _human_. It was a glaring difference now that she could see the particulars. It wasn't even on the physical plane that you would expect. It was mannerisms, attentiveness… knowing she could lie through her nose to him and get away with it. It was in his posture as he sat, in the way he slurped at his cup. Little ticks she didn't have a problem with, but were like sounding a bullhorn to his human nature now that she had seen the other side.

Emma broke the silence first, needing a distraction from how August wasn't– "How did you come to Brookside?"

He didn't start at her sudden question, just swallowed his current sip of coffee. "My Papa is in the pack."

Emma wasn't surprised. Wolf-born to the pack would explain how he knew so much and had so much access. "Must have been nice being born here, growing up here…"

"Growing up here was interesting even on its worst days, but I wasn't born here. I was adopted."

Emma did start with that. "How did that work? From what I've been told, getting Council approval to let any humans in is a pain in the ass."

August shrugged. "I don't know all the particulars. But we both had to prove ourselves to The Council for a long time. It almost didn't happen once… I had a bad habit of lying when I was a kid. Byproduct of foster homes I guess." He gestured to the house behind them. "Had them all in a fit over it."

Emma didn't like that she had something in common with him, so she changed tactics. "You have a limp. What happened there?"

"Polio. My Papa grew up before vaccines were a regular occurrence. Being a wolf means he can't get sick like we do, so taking me in for mine slipped his mind."

"And there's nothing you can do now?"

"It would open a whole mess of questions about why I wasn't treated as a kid. I don't plan on getting The Council's attention back on me if I can help it. I'm hoping David and Snow can help me apply for my own Change soon."

"I'm sorry about that August."

He turned his head to her. Gratitude slowly replacing the wariness he had been wearing on his face. "You actually are. Most people still judge, humans mostly, telling me I should look out for myself. And to a point they're right. But part of being in a Pack, or any family, is thinking of them too. If I risked treatments at this point, they'd ask why I wasn't treated as a kid, if I live with anyone else who hasn't been vaccinated. They'd be forced to show up here to make sure that no one else would be at risk because of me… placing the whole house under the public eye." He chuckled darkly. "Funny right? A house full of wolves and the occasional Fae, and _I'm_ the risk."

"So if you understand all that, why tell me what you did last night? Why give me reason to doubt the guy trying to keep me alive? Why make it harder?"

He turned in his seat to face her more. "It's because I understand _that_ that I told you. I know David and Snow offered you a home here, I don't know how you managed that much, but it's there all the same. And if you matter that much to them, then its only right that I told you to be careful of what the Captain did, _and didn't_ , tell you."

"Fine, but you didn't tell me anything else. Like why should I be worried?"

He sighed, "That's the part I'm not supposed to tell you. Council rules. David's rules. My neck."

Emma smiled her sweetest smile, "You should worry more for you neck if you don't tell me. And I'm guessing I'm the better runner between us, even with my back recently injured."

He hesitated, probably calculating how loud he could scream for help before she cut off his air supply. "How about I tell you a story instead? Let you take from it what you like?"

Emma waved for him to continue, if this was the game he wanted to play, so be it. She missed the fact that none of the wolves had played games with her. Not even Walsh. All blunt and straight forward. He sipped his coffee, cleared his throat, and adjusted his leg. Settling in for what Emma assumed would be a lengthy tale.

"Once upon a time, a female wolf fell in love with a human male. Tamera and Greg. Per Council rules, she wasn't allowed to be completely honest with him about herself. So she tricked and lied to cover up her secret. They eventually got married, and it was then that The Council gave permission for his full involvement. He wasn't happy that she had been lying to him, but in love like he was, he forgave her. He forgave her again, when he had to sell his father's home to live on Pack Territory. And again, when he found himself having to do the bidding of not only the Pack Alpha, but any other wolf ranking higher than his wife. Which was nearly all of them since women rarely hold rank on their own. Female wolves normally mate male wolves, and inherit their rank from them, but her mate left her on the bottom of the pack. She was used to it, so it didn't bother her too much. Nor did it bother her being mated to a human because that meant she didn't have to be submissive to him. Females wolves usually submit to their male counterparts and all that… not very progressive, but the system works. With Greg, she could keep her independence.

"It was when Tamera had her first miscarriage that Greg stopped being so forgiving. She hadn't told him that carrying a baby would be almost impossible. When she would go out on the hunts during the full moon and come home covered in the blood of some animal, he stopped thinking of his life as something out of a fantasy novel. When her mating season came to pass, and she was paired off with another male wolf in hopes of making a natural born werewolf child… Greg stopped being in love. He had tried to be as understanding as he could, but Tamera's secrets never ended. This was Tamera's life, she was used to it, plenty of it was driven by her own instincts and as such, she never questioned it. Greg was learning in a crash course, and each crash was making his life more and more miserable. Soon enough, this mated pair couldn't stand one another. Tamera's wolf however, had chosen him as mate, and therefore wouldn't let him go. She tried everything she could to mend fences, but Greg had lost all trust in his wife. Tamera's heart grew cold, and she started using their mated bond against her husband, letting him feel her satisfied lust through it when she wasn't with him. His heart grew dark, and he started placing himself in bad situations just to make her come and save him, knowing her wolf would make her do it.

"Greg, tired of the games, eventually went to the Alpha, asked if there was any way to get out of the situation. And there was, but Greg was warned that now he knew about wolves, he'd only be mated off to another wolf, killed, or Changed himself. Council Law is very particular about who knows about us. Greg was trapped in this life. It's rare when a mated pair implode so horribly, normally the bond between mates feeds each other their thoughts, emotions… it's different for each pair. It helps them see the other's point of view, feel the other person's feelings. More issues are circumvented because of it, hard to accuse and judge when you live in their heart, and they in yours. Impossible to abuse when every blow gets transmitted back to you. But Greg was thrust so rapidly into the life, and Tamera didn't stop to explain the parts that he had a hard time understanding. Their bond grew weaker and weaker as they grew apart. He got himself into trouble on purpose one day, with a neighboring pack. But the link had gotten so weak, that by the time Tamera felt anything, he was already dying. And by the time she had showed up, the wolves that had attacked him were already disposing of the body. In a rage, her wolf lunged for the killers. She didn't last long after that. It was a mercy killing on both counts to be honest. The way Greg and Tamera were hurting each other, The Council would have had to step in and settled it themselves, and that's never an option someone wants explored."

He stopped and Emma said nothing, her eyes transfixed on the trees in front of her. She felt nothing, a numb feeling having stolen her body away. August sat with her, letting his words soak in. He had been right, they were holding out on the information, not just Killian. Part of Emma's brain fought to remind her that the people protecting her were following the same rules that had kept their world safe for god knows how many centuries; the rest of her brain had shut down in the betrayal. She knew about all of it now, and according to August's story, she would be forced into a marriage or put through the Change… or _worse_. And they all knew. All of them. They saw what was in store for her, and did nothing to stop it or prepare her. And all she could feel was… nothing.

_He should have let me die._

August broke through her thoughts, "You ok Emma? I know it's a sad story, but it's one you can learn from."

"I'm fine." The need to run away a demanding thrum in her bones. "Could you get me some water? My throat feels like sandpaper after all that."

"Sure thing Emma." He rose, stopping at the glass doors. "I won't be long, stay here."

"Right…"

Emma counted to ten before she stood up from her chair. Another five to get down the steps to the grass below. Ten more as she walked to the tree line she had been staring at. Twenty-five seconds she gave for someone new to step in and keep an eye on her. Twenty-five seconds before Emma took off at a dead run. She didn't stop went she breached the tree line, nor when she got so far in the woods that she couldn't see that monstrosity of a house. She stopped when her legs hurt as much as her back and the air in her lungs had been spent. It was a sick reminder of how she ended up in this place to begin with.

_I fucking hate running._

She wandered until she felt good and lost, needing that isolated sensation to come back and wrap itself around her once more. She collapsed against a tree that looked like it had its middle gored out by a giant melon baller. This is where she broke. Tears flooded her vision so the world was a blurred sense of greens and browns. She screamed at the hallowed out tree, low and primal in her anger. Her body shook with anxiety and adrenaline, unable to prevent any emotion that wanted its due. Her life was gone, all of it. Even if they let her return to New York, she'd be forced to be someone's wife, and subject to their demands. It was her fate even if the made her Change to one of them. If she would even _survive_ it. Her choices had been stripped from her the moment Killian had saved her, and not even Ruby had taken a moment to clue her in. It was all gone. Just gone…

Emma lay in a crumpled heap among the dead leaves for a long time, letting the sobs rack her body, or the blackness steal her away for moments at a time. She couldn't see the sun in the sky to have a gauge on the hour, but it would be easy to assume the pack was out looking for her by now. It wouldn't be Killian she'd get to see, and she'd have to answer to _Zuul_ once more for running away. It wasn't something she was looking forward to, even if it was the only thing that kept her from getting back up and running again. A throat behind her cleared causing Emma's shoulders to slump; someone had already found her. It had sounded feminine, so Emma held out hope that it was Snow, or even one of the fairies from the previous night. She didn't check as she stood up and brushed the bits and pieces of nature from her clothes, figuring it didn't matter anyway.

"Ok, you found me. Call off the hunt… escort me back… whatever it is you guys do…" Emma turned finally, staring expectantly at the woman there. She wasn't familiar, and Emma was sure she would have remembered this one had they met. She wasn't tall, but she held herself straight backed, as if someone had surgically attached a metal rod down her spine. She had her dark hair done up in an old up-do style, with a dark dress down to her feet from the matching era. Her lips were painted dark, smiling even though the woman's eyes were calculating.

"Hello dear." She spoke, "I've been looking all over for you."

* * *

Killian was playing out a rather grisly retribution in his head against the two Fae for their games. Not that he'd actually be able to pull it off, but the mental imagery was a soothing enough balm for his wolf. For the first time in roughly fourteen hours, his wolf wasn't chomping at the bit for one reason or another. He gave honest consideration to a bout of violence after this was over; if it settled his wolf enough to not make a pull for Emma. His feet still carried him to her door, and without his wolf to currently blame, Killian was faced with the very hard truth that the attachment wasn't just his wolf lonely for a mate. The image of Emma dying by his hands flashed again through his head as the tether to her tightened around his neck. His wolf wasn't sated with ripping apart fictional Fae anymore, needing to see her as much as Killian did. He could feel her annoyance already, figuring it was the struggle of getting dressed again or the anticipation of his appearance that had set her off so early in the morning. The intensity climbed steadily, and so did the frequency of his steps, ending as a swift jog by the time he reached her threshold. His hand slapping the wood in place of a knock, not even pausing in his gait to open the door.

She wasn't there.

His phone was in his hands and typing out a "Good Morning" before he let panic set in. A vibration from the adjacent bathroom let him know that this wasn't going to be the way to find her either. Killian cast his eyes around the room, eager for any clues she might have left behind. Her room was cold; her scent aged a couple hours at least. She had risen with the sun, as he had been lingering next to Snow and whispering encouragement to pull through. She had left and wandered to heaven knows where, as he had kissed the Siren. And now she was alone. Or with someone that was miffing her off good and proper. His mouth ticked, hoping that she was letting the ponce (whomever it might be) have a good verbal thrashing. Killian approached her bed, all warmth gone from the sheets. He carefully laid down in the vacant spot, trying to match the dips in the pillows and mattress to his own head and shoulders. Her scent enveloped him, and he breathed her deep, rubbing his face along the fabric. Shifting and rolling in her linens, forcing the scent to cling to him rather the empty bed. He could feel her temper notch down for a moment; he indulged the moment in a fantasy that she knew he was here in her room and in her bed. He knew it wasn't the truth, but what else was he to do when the reality of it was so far out of his reach?

He rose, adjusting his clothes and combing a hand through his hair; he had to hunt down a Swan. Her scent fresh on his body, he tracked her through the house for only a few moments before he realized she had gotten turned around so many times that he'd likely find a trace of her in every hall. Her temper was flaring to life once again, and he was left with only one option. He stopped in the hall, closed his eyes; searching for that rope about his neck that his wolf had forged. It was flimsy at best –normal for a mated bond that hasn't been openly accepted by either person, but it wouldn't be there at all if she hadn't accepted him to some degree, or if he hadn't been gifted with the few quite moments at her side. But it had remained in its fragile state with each of them ignoring it, rejecting it; his wolf slyly pointed out that it had remained in spite of those facts. He was afraid to touch it at all on the chance that it would dissolve under his fingertips, but through it he felt Emma's anger burn, felt the undercurrent of pain… he couldn't let her stay somewhere like that. The tether that had been choking him, the thing he was sure he'd hang by, he now embraced. The warmth of her seeped into him, as much as such a neglected conduit could allow. He could feel the betrayal pump out her emotions into him.

Killian might be able to give his wolf something to eviscerate yet.

Following it as best he could, he wound through the halls nearing the East Wing, mapping out the few locations in the section that Emma would be drawn to. Her temper stopped and Killian was filled with ice in his body; he ran the rest of the distance. He was coming up on the deck (S _he was watching the sunrise…_ ) and he passed a fretful looking human. The same idiot that caused her distress the night before. Emma's sorrow burst through him; Killian didn't break stride as he threw the tosser up against the wall, letting his wolf out to play as much as it pleased.

" _ **Where is she?!"**_

The man was lax in Killian's hold, letting his head loll to the side. "I don't know. We were talking, she asked me to get her some water. I came back and she was gone."

Killian dropped him, running out to the deck, hoping to get a glance of her that the human would have missed. Her scent was fresher, but it didn't end here. It, and the bond he was depending on now, led out into the woods. He tracked for over an hour, the strong smells of the various trees clogging his senses, the bond only giving him a general direction to follow. He wanted to call out for her, let her know he was out there for her even if she was furious, that someone was here for her. But the threat of a maniac and his "Grandmother" being close by held his tongue. He heard what sounded like her voice coming from somewhere from the left, distant and muffled through the foliage. Relief sparked, he darted towards the sound, the bond growing warm and solid in his chest.

She was safe.

He was moving as fast as forest would allow a creature up on two legs. There was a moment of panic from her, and then… nothing. His momentum caused him to skid to the dirt floor, chest heaving, his wolf howling. The tether that had warmed him, the one he had been so afraid of, was gone. Limp and lifeless the rope was, leaving Killian without his stubborn Swan. Confusion stunted him, made him pause. The bond shouldn't be gone; she would have to formally reject him to make that happen. It meant magical means –or death– as his options. His feet scrambled to get him vertical and moving again, his nose demanding her scent from the forest, both leading him to a hallowed out tree. The leaves on the ground showing she had slept, or at least rested, while he had hunted for her. (A tight formation betraying the fetal position she had stayed in.) He searched the surrounding area, finding nothing to show which way she had gone.

No scent.

No blood.

No footprints.

No signs of struggle.

Desperate, he even looked to the sky, hoping to see his Swan flying away, just so he could see her. He was met with leaves and the twinkling sun. He screamed to them, to everything. His wolf whispered that no body equaled no death, that there was still hope from the mouth of the human. _He_ had driven her out here; _he_ might know what had happened. Killian only saw a blur of greens and browns as he returned to the house, finding the human waiting on the deck. Asking if Emma had been found, if she was alright, that he didn't mean to scare her off. Killian said nothing as his fist flew, breaking the nose of the man. Killian could smell the illness on him, and normally would resist fighting invalids, but this one had earned himself far worse. If this human weren't in possession of needed information, the man would be dead.

Killian hunched down next to the bastard, death a promise in his whisper, "Tell me what you told her."

* * *

Belle was sitting quietly in the oversized chair, a book resting in her lap, opened to a page she wasn't reading. David was in his wolf-skin, helping the newest Changeling. It had only been one night, but she was proving to be more than apt in her new form. She had changed into it rather quickly, giving all so much hope that she was a prodigy to this life. But once in the skin, like most Changeling's, she was having a hard time coming back to her human-skin. It was addictive being on all fours, senses heightened and the old world made new again. The wolf demanding its dominance over the human half, it was always a struggle for the human to win out. It didn't help that being the most stubborn woman alive, the trait was shared to the wolf now. David was showing excellent patience, but a human child could see it was wearing thin. Belle's job was to make sure tempers stayed low for both of them, but to otherwise stay out of it. The bond between the Alpha and a new recruit needing to cement in its place as soon as possible. So she sat in her chair, focusing on the words in front of her, letting the emotions of the room wash over her, and letting the general silence remain undisturbed.

Fate, of course, has a wonderful sense of humor and picked then to throw Belle's job into overdrive.

Killian Jones burst through the door, rage oozing off of him and taking over the reactions of everyone present. His eyes were the ice white of his wolf, hair sprouting along his arms down to his elongated hands. He smelled of fear and forest and blood. Nothing about the man was going to help the Alpha coax the Changeling out of her wolf now.

"Killian! Killian, you have to go! You can't be here when you're like this!" Belle pleaded as she forced her will into the room, forcing the calmer humans out of everyone.

David roared at the bars containing him and the Changeling. Killian answered in kind, locking his eyes on the caged Alpha.

_Not good… this is so not good._

Belle moved in front of Killian, trying to shove him backwards to the door he destroyed getting in here. "You cannot be here Killian! Leave! Please!" He might as well have been a mountain for all he moved. His eyes never left the Alpha in front of him, easily met over Belle's tiny frame. David lunging at the challenge, connecting with his cage thankfully instead of charging through it.

Killian's voice was clear in the room, echoing off the walls in ominous tones. Bringing all to attention in a way he shouldn't be able to do. "August spoke with Emma again. Told her the tale of Greg and Tamera. Used it as a cautionary tale against her own future with our kind. She panicked and ran when he left her by herself. I tracked her to the woods, to a hallowed out tree, but there the trail stopped. Just stopped…" A solitary tear escaped him. "She's gone."

Belle was wide eyed, frozen with her hands still against his chest. David was rigid; all focus placed on Killian and his words.

From the back of the cell, a white wolf with eyes too green walked to stand next to her Alpha. She lifted her front leg, letting her foot land on David's. Her head flung back, letting forth a howl that was too loud for someone so new. The Pack would have heard it, felt it through the bonds that hold a pack together as a unit.

She was calling them all. She was calling for the hunt.


	21. Matriarchs and the Ties That Bind Them

**Chapter 20**

**Matriarchs and the Ties That Bind Them**

* * *

Lance grew up near the three corners of Louisiana, Arkansas, and Mississippi as the world entered its first Great War. His people weren't the nation's slaves anymore, not since his daddy was a boy, but neither were they considered humans. Its and odd thing to grow up hearing people talk about you as if you were no more than a working animal on a farm, and then later treat you worse than their prized beasts out of spite. In that time, power and responsibility outside of Lance's own home would have been a fantasy to read from a book, if he had been able to read then. That was when a telegram came letting his family know that his daddy had been killed in the war, pushing his mama to suddenly decide that reading was critical to life. His mama talked a preacher out of a ratty old bible and insisted he learn. Took switches to him when he resisted, and then again when he would refuse to help his brothers and sisters and cousins learn it too. "You get smart from books," she would tell him, "ain't no way the smart goes from the book to your head if you don't read it. And no child of mine is going to be less than I am or their daddy was." Once all the children knew God's words, other books would show up, and his mama would demand her children read to her every night. He wasn't the best at it, that was his sister, but when he got older and the Army came knocking again, he knew enough to make him worth more than an extra body to take a bullet or three.

But a black man in the time of war is still a black man, educated or not. The world hadn't changed so much that Lance would expect any better from the foreign places he was sent to as a young man, than the small two stop sign town he had experienced as a child. But if you had taken that young man entering the world's second Great War, he would have preened like a cock in a henhouse to have the power and responsibility Lance had in this, his current moment. An entire pack doing as he said, the Alpha of another pack taking his suggestions with respect, his own Alpha depending on him to keep the house and territory safe. There was truth in it, a part of him deep inside puffing up, hoping his mama was looking down from heaven and smiling, proud of how far her boy had come.

But the reality was Lance would rather be back in the P.O.W. camp where he found his Change, even willing to take the cold German winter with it. The pack was following his lead, but only just. Panic had seized the whole lot of them when their Alpha lost his mind right as lunch was being served; the younger wolves couldn't help but to be forced to wolf-skin under David's rage. If he listened to Belle's account, then his rage was only the fuel to someone else in that room had calling out the hunt in the pack; distressing news on its own. The wolf called Killian had flipped his own damned wig, making the basement a veritable deathtrap for anyone trying to obey the instincts those wolves were calling out to, or for anyone trying to go down try to calm them. Belle managed to keep the Alpha and the Changeling locked in their own cell, neither in much control of their wolves. Somehow, she had maneuvered Killian into the adjacent cell, throwing the lock into place before he caught on to her. A feat even the Fae women couldn't figure out. Keeping him there, however, was proving difficult.

_Damned Houdini that one._

They found him in Emma's room after his first escape –picking up random things throughout the room, scenting for lord knows what– adamant in his refusal to leave the space. It had taken the Siren to lure him out; the resulting fury Killian showed after seeing her was enough to drop Lance to his knees under the pressure of a more dominant wolf. But they managed to lock him up once more. David, still in his wolf-skin, had lunged at the bars between their cells. Killian –still up on two legs and not even in the throes of his initial change– responded in kind. Clearly there was a debate as to who was responsible for Emma's disappearance. The second time Killian busted out, they found him hovering over a very limp August –the injuries were minor, but enough to confine August to his bedroom with a nurse inside. The third time Killian was out, they caught up to him as he was breaking through August's door –August and the nurse are now residing in one of the tower rooms, the door leading up the tower steps heavily guarded. It was after that incident when David tried to force Killian into his wolf-skin, and what led Lance into believing his Alpha was slowly coming out of his madness and down to reality. (Killian in wolf was terrifying honestly, but there was a growing need to take that man's thumbs away.) David's attempts, however, were leading to more fighting through the bars, and causing the insanity to continue. Moving either set before they had fully calmed down would be disastrous, but keeping them together wasn't proving to be a better option either.

Between Hell and High Water was where Lance was.

Killian's third attempt at escape and undisclosed intentions was also what finally drove Robin and his pack to haul ass out of Brookside territory. Mostly Lance believed it was to avoid the contention between the two turkeys down in the brig, but on Lance's request, Robin agreed to at least comb the woods for any trace of Emma. A matter of honor or some nonsense. No… not nonsense, his mama would box his ears if she heard him say that. It wasn't that Lance didn't get it, he understood honor more than most; it was trying to wrangle two packs and their human mates that had him slightly distracted and willing to wave off any talk about honor. Bottom line, honor or no honor, the more non-crazy wolves out helping the better. Although Lance still felt better to have some of his own people out on the ground, so he sent out Anna, her mate Kris, and the new transfer Mulan to try and track anything they could on Emma. Hopefully these efforts made would work to calm down the wolves down below. Anna's last report in told him nothing was found yet, he was planning on keeping that little tidbit to himself as long as he could.

He had just managed a deep breath after a lengthy conversation with Anna –over a report that could have been given in less than ten words ( _motor mouth that one was_ )– when the two Fae women popped up out of nowhere to offer their help. Lance might not be an old wolf, but he knew better than to accept gifts from Fairies, no matter how beneficial they might be in the short term. He was opening his mouth to refuse when the damned women popped back out to nowhere before he had made a sound. He wasn't holding his breath on their help turning up anything, but if they were making the effort, payment would be expected regardless of turnout. His old unit would be laughing from Heaven, but he was planning on hiding behind Snow if those two ever came back looking for him to pay up.

Lance then made the effort to notify Emma's kin from New York; and they should be expected before the day was gone. ( _Heavenly joy, another Alpha with strong tie to the woman._ ) Though they might be harder to wrangle given the emotional stakes, they would be a genuine help. Both with established ties to the girl, and her scent burned into their memories. They would know of any tricks Emma would pull to escape or send word, and maybe give enough hope to the rest. Everything should be fine, so long as the lower ranks held out didn't worry over the state of their current Alpha. Dissention was not on Lance's list of things he could handle right now. He was mentally trying to place Ruby and Graham in the Pack House –they would need a bed or two, somewhere where they would be comfortable– when the idea of Granny coming along came to mind. That was a wolf he'd hide behind the Fae women to avoid. Nice lady, _scary_ lady. Lance was praying to God and his mama that Granny had been left out of the loop. There wasn't a tragedy on God's earth that called for that woman to stir from her den.

His younger self could puff and preen; he was handling two packs, two Alpha's, another inbound, The Captain, a massive search party, Fae gifts and promises, and a potential Granny. He had the respect and responsibility, the power and authority… over the biggest FUBAR'd SNAFU he'd ever seen. (And he had been in the US Army) But Lance with all his experience now just wanted a couple steaks and a nap.

* * *

Emma came to very slowly. Senses turning on one at a time, her body barely shifting as she asked it to get up over and over again. Her legs felt sore and her head was spinning with each effort to move; she didn't remember drinking that much. She didn't remember drinking _at all_ at the party. Though warmly cocooned in her bed, the bed was stiffer than when she fell asleep, and the pillows were missing the touch of sandalwood and lavender. She brushed aside the differences hoping to get back to the oblivion sleep gave her. Whatever her brain was trying to point out didn't matter while she was in bed and not quite ready to face the wolves. Or Killian. But her brain was persistent, waking up what systems it could. And the more her brain turned on, the more reality seeped into her. A sea of wolves, Killian's smile, a misguided man, Killian's jealousy, the comfort of a strong male that had zero sexual interest in her, Killian's arms, a home to call hers simply because she showed up. The smile that came was a reaction she was too tired to fight, and she indulged it while she could. She dozed in the moment, letting visuals of his smile and his need for touch bounce around in a childish fantasy she'd never get to see through. As good a man as he was turning out to be, if being his meant being a 1950's housewife, Emma wasn't interested. No matter how good of a kisser he was, or how bright his eyes became when he was teasing and trying to get a reaction from her. It was thinking of him that finally got her body responsive to her head –ignoring the implications of that entirely of course, because Emma wasn't willing to indulge that much of Killian in her head while she was still in bed. Her eyes were crusted over, feeling swollen and abused, and not at all happy that her fingers were rubbing away the scratchy bits of sleep clinging to them. When she managed to crack one open, the room was still dark, and abnormally cold. The window was high and narrow on the wall, looking far too industrial and not even close to the large windows of the room Snow had picked out for her. Briefly, Emma slunk back under the blankets in embarrassment, assuming the worst of having fallen asleep in someone else's room.

_God, I hope I didn't shack up with August…_

Bolting upright, her memories flooded her head. Killian not at her door that morning, the conversation with August echoing in her head, words that hurt; the need to run burning her from her bones out until she finally gave into it, heading into the woods alone. She looked back to the window, if it was dark again, that meant she slept away the day –hopefully just the afternoon– it had been just before lunchtime when she had taken off. But this wasn't the grand setting of the Brookside Manor, nor was it the warm welcome of Killian's farmhouse.

Emma didn't know this place.

Her head fell to her hands, fingers rubbing her temples as she fought off the need to cry. She was with Walsh, every instinct and gut feeling screamed this to her. She swallowed and choked down everything in her heart, those things would only get in the way right now. She reached inside herself, dragging up old habits she had hoped to never touch again; things that made it possible to survive every new place she was thrust into. And the first thing she learned in the system –both foster and prison– was to learn every nook and cranny of your space; this was just a new space to learn…

_Just a new space Emma._

What little Emma could see, the room was tiny and Spartan, but still a built structure. She had slept the day away in someone else's home, not a quickly pieced together room of metal sheeting or a trailer of some sort. She looked out the window again, hoping for anything outside that might help her place where she was, even something as basic as electric lines. But it was clouded and dirty, she could barely make out the thumbnail moon coming up in the sky –or maybe it was already going down, she had no way to tell. She let her eyes rest away from its light, even as little as it was; she needed her eyes adjusting to the dark. A nightstand on each side of the bed, and not a very large bed either. Something that looked like stacked plastic pullout drawers from Walmart sat to the wall on her left, close to the door. A metal pole stood floor to ceiling at the base of the bed, and Emma noted the thick heavy chain creeping up and under the blankets. Whipping them back, she tracked the chain to a padded leather cuff around her bare ankle.

_Fuck me…_

It hadn't escaped Emma that her clothes had been changed. She was just ignoring it, ignoring the general child-like style of the clothing, and the idea who might have been the one to physically undress her. She could only push her sanity so far. So Emma tried to focus her brain and remember the points between running from Brookside and here. There were the woods, the weird tree… and that woman. But the rest was blank. It didn't really matter where she was anymore, but who she was here with. Whoever the woman was, she was obviously working for Walsh and had brought Emma to him. Emma glanced around the room once more, anxiety building deep in her stomach. Far right corner sported a porcelain toilet next to a matching standing sink, without the benefit of walls for privacy.

_Joy… its prison all over again._

A knock at the door jump-started her heart, and she ducked back under the covers to fake sleep. But she had fallen back down facing the door, and as it cracked open to show the blinding light from the hallway beyond, Emma fumbled; squinting and squishing her face against it. Emma knew she was already busted in a rookie mistake, giving up on pretending in probably the quickest time of her life, and giving in to blinking her eyes, adjusting to the new assault on them. It was the petite woman from the woods was standing there, still wearing that Victorian age gown, holding a tray of food. A beaming smile split her face in a practiced way that looked wrong; all muscle memory, no actual projected happiness.

"Oh good, you're awake. I had thought you might be hungry, so I made you something to eat. Nothing elaborate, just some _Coq au Vin_ next to toasted garlic bread. The weather is turning cold, so I figured something warm and hearty would do you well. I used up the last of the wine making this for you, so I hope you don't mind the water to drink, though after the time you had, it might be the better choice. We have to keep you healthy." She placed the tray down on the nightstand next to Emma's bed, sitting herself in a chair Emma hadn't noticed earlier.

The food smelled amazing causing Emma's stomach to growl in reminded hunger. Even if it was still the same day, the last thing she had was only a bagel and coffee. Still, she hesitated. It might smell fantastic and even taste delicious, but this woman was working for Walsh, lord knows what else was in there. ( _You just had to run, didn't you?_ ) Staring at it, waiting for it to grow its own legs really, Emma sat back up, running her fingers through her hair to calm it down to something manageable. She adjusted her twisted top and fixed the covers to conceal everything from the bust down, sitting straight backed as she turned her blank face to the woman; going as far as blinking slowly instead of speaking. Emma didn't know what reaction she would get for her display of calm defiance, but any reaction would give her a basic idea of her future treatment while staying here at Club Psycho Dog-Boy. Instead of the typical and expected disdain or anger, Emma was met with laughter as the woman rose from her chair to perch next to Emma on the bed.

"Oh! You are a smart one! That's good, very good. Most girls just take the food right away, gluttony overriding their common sense. Not that I entirely blame them, we keep you girls asleep for long enough where the need for food is strong; I've even pumped the stomachs of a few that had recently eaten. But goodness knows what I may have put in it while I was cooking, or after! I'm so happy he found you," The woman reached out a hand and pet Emma's hair, "I have grown so tired of the simpering and crying of weak girls."

Emma forced herself to remain blank in her face and still in her body as the woman touched her. "How long was I out?"

"Asleep you mean? Just a few hours my dear girl. You've only lost the afternoon and early evening. A nap is always benefiting to a lady when she's had a trying day."

Emma took it as good news. Killian and the others had to know she was missing by now, and would be out seeking her. She nodded to the food, if the woman was being open with her answers, might as well keep asking for them. "Did you do something to it? Poison? Spell?"

The hand froze in the air, "Spell? My dear girl, just what do you think I am?"

Emma felt her face break into something feeling mildly sarcastic, "Lady, I've seen some real strange shit recently. You could be a Zombie Easter Bunny from Mars for all the hell I know. By this point, I don't expect anyone to be normal."

The woman pulled her hand away, a frown settling on her features, giving the opposite effect from earlier. Her face wasn't used to this pose, but it matched her eyes and personality more. Her whole demeanor switched to a more prim and proper posture, snobbish and condescending. "I see." She murmured, "While I don't care for your crass language, nor your flippant attitude, I can assure you the food is untainted. By any means whatsoever."

Emma nodded again, accepting the woman's truth. "And you? Just who –or what– are you?"

The false smile returned. "Why… I'm your new Grandmother."

* * *

Back and forth he walked, up and down the hallway outside her door. Humming a song about a golden ticket and wringing his hands as Grandmother introduced herself to his girl. It was only proper that Emma should meet the woman that had brought her home. Of course, he wanted to be the one to introduce them to each other, but Grandmother hadn't liked that idea ( _she never likes that idea_ ), declaring that females needed time away from the men folk to get properly acquainted. Even went as far as enchanting the door to keep him from the temptation of bursting in and watching. He tested the door of course, needing to know his limits. (Which apparently was three feet away from the door before the enchantment started making his skin burn.) Obey he would, but Walsh didn't agree with Grandmother. Emma needed him right now, needed him to make the bad habits disappear so her mind could be at ease. He _needed_ to make her better, to bring her back to the place all girls want to be. She had already needed so much work before The Captain had wormed his way in; goodness knows what ill tempers she had picked up in her time with him. Walsh shrugged away what she had been doing with The Captain, it didn't matter; he would work hard to make her his sweet girl again, his Golden Girl. He expected her to fight it at first; they all did in the beginning. He understood how hard it could be to let go of your life when you only knew one way to live it. He never blamed the world for not knowing in the first place, not when there was no one to show them what better was like. Especially the females, their path had been lost for so long now and only getting worse as time ticked on. Of course, once he showed them the proper way –how they could be the best versions of themselves– and they still chose to fight him… well… cleaning out the weeds from the flowers was only the right thing to do. Emma wouldn't be like that, she'd be the best of all the girls he helped. And then she would help other girls be better too.

Walsh was on the path away from the door when it opened and Grandmother exited Emma's room. Her face was grim, but then it always was. Her hands held the tray of food she had taken in, the plate had been eaten from. It was a good sign, Emma already trusting them enough to take care of her. Grandmother didn't look at him as she passed, continuing on to the kitchen. Like the good boy he was, he followed Grandmother without needing to be told. The dishes were piled in the sink, waiting for his hands to make them clean again. Grandmother remained quiet as he made them both their nightly drinks of a Suffering Bastard, speaking only as he placed the carefully sliced orange slice gently on the skin of the liquid.

"She's very clever, smarter than I would have guessed, but she isn't the princess you made her out to be."

Walsh fidgeted a fraction, unsure what to do with Grandmother's disapproval. "It's likely the bad influence she's been around for so long. Living with that _whore_ in New York and now The Captain… she came to me to help her fix that."

Grandmother's eyebrows rose. "She came to you? Oh dear, I must have been hallucinating that _I_ was the one to find her, _carry_ her here, and keep her secure in that room."

Walsh lowered his head and craned his neck. "Of course Grandmother, I meant no disrespect. I only meant that she was drawn to me from the start because she wants to be better. And I want to make her that, just like how you made me better."

Grandmother gifted him with a smile. "Of course she did. But for now, she needs her rest my darling boy. All good pets need time to get used to their new surroundings. If you want to keep this one, you'll have to go slower than you usually do. Only interact with her to feed to or to get her something she needs. And when you start training, I would suggest that you help her with those manners of hers first, then of course housetraining. Can't have her making a mess everywhere and thinking its ok to be dirty. Of course, should she do well, reward her. Show her the good boy I know you are, and I promise you she'll try harder to be better if she knows what comes with it. If all you do is punish the bad parts, then you get a scared pet. Scared pets turn on their masters. We don't want that do we?"

Walsh felt anticipation thrum through him. "No Grandmother."

Grandmother hummed. "The enchantment will end by sunrise. Don't want you disturbing her tonight, but make sure you give her breakfast come morning. I'll be gone before you wake in the morning to go attend some personal business, and I'll return in two weeks' time to check on her progress. I expect her to have manners by then sweetheart."

He nodded. "Of course Grandmother."

"Good. Now if that's all settled, it's time for you to get going with your chores. Can't expect your pet to be clean when you aren't following the same rules. And then you have to help your dear Grandmother get ready for bed."

His voice breathy when he answered her again, "Yes Grandmother."

Walsh tried very hard not to rush through his nightly chores; he would only have to do them all over again after he finished his punishment. He didn't want to make Grandmother do her bedtime routine alone. She wasn't so young anymore and needed so much help in her bath and getting dressed in her bedclothes. Some nights she let him into the bed with her, needing to be pet and stroked in special ways to help relax; finding sleep when you take care of so much isn't easy. He'd never tell her, but he liked those nights the most. When she needed him for so much, and hopefully she'd need him like that again tonight since she did so much to bring his sweet girl home.

* * *

Graham arrived in a wave of power Granny felt all the way up in her sanctuary. The Alpha hadn't been this incensed since Emma's first attack, so it only made sense to believe something had gone wrong with the girl again. Ruby's eventual arrival to say they were traveling to Brookside for a while only confirmed Granny's suspicions. Emma's distress had been a constant beat in her old skin, even at this distance. She had nearly locked herself in her safe room to keep her wolf from hunting the poor girl out when it spiked early this morning. But Emma was with Killian and in the overbearing environment of Brookside; Emma's distress seemed like a normal reaction, and as such, Granny ignored it as best she could. The guilt over those decisions would come later, when Emma came home; her wolf would accept nothing less than Emma's survival. Though keeping her wolf under control in these conditions wasn't ideal, and the easy answer would to simply sit back and let the young pups have their adventures, Granny wasn't going to leave everything to chance.

Right now, there were measures to take.

A measure of tea, for starters. A personal mix she had developed over the centuries to sedate her inner animal. It frankly made her a bit dopey all around, but it was something needed for clear thinking. Emma's future required more than just the disposal of one blood-raged Changeling, and that meant some planning was needed. Plotting and planning wasn't a wolf's forte as the wolf seeks to remedy its problems as they happen, and by whatever means necessary. To manipulate others into doing as you needed was more akin to playing with one's meal, and last Granny checked, she wasn't any type of feline. This kind of planning would need some collaboration with people of authority… well… it would need the cooperation of _one_ particular person in authority. Convincing the rest would be easy if she got this one on her side. Ultimately, it meant that Granny tipped in a measure of vodka into her tea, for just a touch of calm nerves and a touch of warmth in the ever-declining temperatures outside. It wasn't cold like her childhood in _Novgorodskaja respublika_ , but habits like hers didn't die with the changing of regimes, countries, or year. Hell, her rotary phone was still a novelty in her mind. The spinning and clicks as she dialed the number she hated even knowing were almost comforting in their rhythm.

Two steady rings and the authoritarian in question picked up. Genuine surprise in the woman's voice alongside the customary irritation. "Well, well. Been a long time Poloma Volkov. Didn't think I'd be hearing from you again this century… it's only been about thirty years."

Granny couldn't fault the woman for her words; if the tables were flipped, Granny couldn't honestly say she would be any more polite –if she went as far as answering in the first place. "Keep going Ruth and I'm not going to be responsible for my actions."

The line held an ominous silence –which wasn't an easy feat among wolves. "That wouldn't be a threat, would it?"

Granny waved her hand in the air, brushing away the posturing they've done for the past 200 years. "You know about the current problem of the psychotic wolf yes? How he's targeted my Emma?"

"Of course. She's safely tucked away at Brookside with my son."

"She _was_. Graham and my Ruby just bolted from here after a bad morning on Emma's part."

Ruth paused again, which only irritated Granny further. "How do you know Emma was having a bad morning? Did you speak with her?"

"No."

Ruth heaved a sigh, "If you're building a pack Poloma…"

"Please woman, what would I do with one of those? But did you think I wouldn't watch out for the child that stole away my Ruby's heart?" Granny wouldn't ever openly admit how much of her own heart Emma had stolen. Emma didn't deserve that kind of target on her back.

"No… no one doubts your devotion to Ruby." Ruth sighed again on the phone, but without the previous accusation ringing through it. "Fine, any clue what happened to her?"

Granny chuckled. "I'm good, not _that_ good. Between your son, Killian, my Ruby, and Graham, I have no doubt they'll stumble right upon Emma as she's gutting that wolf."

"Then why call me about it?"

"My call isn't about the rescue. It's about after."

"You know our rules Poloma. I was able to convince the others to bend them once for Ruby; it's selfish to ask again so soon after. Not to mention arrogant and plain rude."

"Of course not. But Emma wouldn't choose to become like us at this point in time; she'd never say it out loud, but the conception problem would be a deal breaker. However, the other options of forcing her into marriage… I'm sure we can work out something better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For the army terms Lance used:  
> FUBAR: Acronym for Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition: basically means shit hit the fan  
> SNAFU: Acronym for System's Normal: All Fucked Up: meaning that the fucked up deal is a regular occurrence.
> 
> Grandmother's drink, Suffering Bastard, is a bourbon mix drink.
> 
> The name I gave Granny translates (via Google Translate: Russian) literally to "Bow Wolf" Cause she's a wolf and she likes that crossbow... gosh I'm clever.... 
> 
> Figured out who Grandmother is yet? Confirmation comes next chapter.
> 
> If you guys are commenting or asking things, I am responding to it directly in the comments area. Be sure to check once in a while.


	22. Hurry Up and Wait

**Chapter 21**

**Hurry Up and Wait**

* * *

It might have been Robin leaving with his pack that helped alleviate David's rage; another Alpha in the territory during stressful times can make one feel defensive over what belongs to whom and who gets say over everything else. It might have been Graham and the thought of another Alpha entering his territory; showing weakness –being useless– wouldn't sit well with his pack or with himself. It might have been Killian losing his head over Emma's capture that reminded David of what was lost, and how he needed to get back in control to set it right. It might have been his newest Changeling giving over to her undying faith even though she still hadn't been able to switch back to her human-skin, telling David how obvious it was that her mind –her soul– was in full control. Whatever the reason, David managed to come out of his anger to pick up his duties from Lance –who had earned himself a bottle of bourbon from David's secret stash for his impressive on the fly management skills.

Though if awards were going to be handed out for such things, Killian would take the prize. At least, Killian's _wolf_ would. It had been apparent when Killian stormed the holding cells that he was holding tight to the last threads of his control, a grip he lost when the Changeling called out the hunt in all the wolves. Killian's wolf –of course– rose to the demand, but retained the human form for its own purposes. David was too intimately aware –twice over– how bad it can be when the wolf inside runs the show. (His twin had relished the power being a wolf gave him, and quickly lost himself in it, forcing The Council to intervene. James' death triggered their stepfather's descent into the same madness less than a year later with the same results.) And while David wasn't overly fond of Killian most of the time, it was a matter of principle to not leave allies to burn just because the kitchen burst into flames. Even then, ally or not, Emma was fond of the bozo. And that meant Killian's well-being was going to be a priority among everything else that was hitting the plate. At first, it seemed simple enough to let Belle reach him, her specialty of calming the inner beasts and all. And at first, it seemed to work; Killian was wrangled into one of the cells and locked in. He was contained and quiet, which was a rookie mistake by any wolf frankly, and David took full responsibility for it; a silent wolf is never a good thing. Killian's wolf (in control of the human-skin) paced with the head dropped low and watching from under the brow (It was always unnerving to David to watch a human body contort to more animalistic mannerisms), and then broke out of cell _and_ basement entirely. He stopped speaking English when they recovered him from Emma's room (Drugged and _dragged_ him from Emma's room), muttering lord knows what language at the time. Bastard was fluent in more than one, but the one Killian's wolf had fallen into wasn't one David could pinpoint. Hopefully Graham and Ruby would rush and get here soon to translate some of it, or at least tell him the name of it so David could find the right one on Google Translate. If things got desperate, Robin was still just a phone call away –if he even got reception on his cell phone out in the trees.

The same damned trees that had swallowed Emma up like a small rabbit. David shook his head, giving into the asinine during desperate times was a really bad habit of his. It didn't matter how she had gone, it mattered that she was just gone. The beautiful, strong woman he had sworn to protect. Lost before he could start in his duties to her, swept up in seeing to his role as Alpha first. Another bad habit, however much it was required of him. It wouldn't have been the first time that his duties came before the girl. When his daughter had been born, there had been a mild war going on around them. David had run to make sure Snow had been safe with their child, only to find both Snow and Ruby on the ground bleeding out. His pack had been on all levels of the house fighting off what they could, he felt each one die, felt the life drain from his beloved Mary… and then the flames came to drown them all. Half the pack had been lost, the house left in ruins, Ruby met her Change somehow, and Snow survived through her scars. The pack mourned for months in the aftermath, many wolves transferring out to seek venues that held no memory of dead friends or lovers. They rallied eventually; the battle was done with their side having a "sort of" victory. The witch that had caused so much despair with her misplaced rage had been defeated; disappearing into a self-imposed exile to the very same woods she had banished Snow. But her heart hadn't healed with the ease of solitary life; it drove her mad. Still bent on vengeance, and now mutilated with the need to care for others (as being an Alpha will do to you), the witch came one night and stole his daughter – _his princess_ – from her crib. It still wasn't clear what had exactly happened to the woman after, but it was something powerful enough to dial back the insanity she once twisted herself in, though neither the memory of what became of his princess –nor the body of his little girl– were ever recovered. It took time and endless efforts from everyone to reach the woman within, something Snow had insisted on as she refused to equate the power mad witch they all knew with the woman Snow had first met. There were moments in those days when David could almost see the hurt young woman Snow would talk about… almost, but the woman had cost him his daughter –his first-born– and countless friends. He may have learned to forgive the lady, even like her from time to time, but he wasn't going to forget a damn thing. He owed his princess that much. Now he owed Emma. He'd spend his life making this up to her if she let him, if she was able to let him. This wasn't a mistake he'd be allowing to happen again.

A heavy weight pressed on his boot as another weight leaned into his legs. His newest wolf whimpering at his side, feeling his distress as her own. New wolves needed to stay by their Alpha's side the first few weeks to help learn control over their urges. An interesting spin for them since it was her constant presence that was having a calming effect on him. More reasons to be grateful that she survived her Change. "Given everything that's happened, I could say it's a damn miracle you came through. But I haven't ever known you to be anything other than stubborn."

She snorted and leaned heavier on his foot.

David laughed softly, "And I can say that freely right now because you can't talk back and I'm higher in the command scale for once."

She nipped his calf as she circled his legs, toppling him to the ground.

But David was still laughing; hope flashing inside. If she was there enough in her mind to play with him like this, then there was hope coming in the distance. "For now anyway. I'm sure you'll make me pay for every remark I take advantage of once you figure out all the tricks."

She tilted her head to the door leading down to the holding cells, crooning softly at the sounds of wrath coming from below.

David looked to her, not sure what she was leading to, "He'll be fine once he calms down. Ok, maybe not _fine_ , but functional. I understand it's hard on him, but I can't help him till he calms down or Killian retakes control."

The Changeling snorted again, walking to a nearby door leading outside and scratching at it a few times before she put her nose to the ground in exaggerated sniffing sounds. (Werewolves are the best at charades; it's needed so often in their lives.)

But as David was still learning her clues, confusion would be the standard for now. "Are you asking to track Emma?" She pointed her nose to the door going down again, "You think _he_ should go out tracking again? Really? That's Killian's _wolf_ in control, he'd have no rationality when he would need it. If he picked up a scent, he would follow it without sending word back. And what if he found her? There's no telling how he'd react to her state. We don't even know if she's…. if… we don't _know_."

His new wolf sat down with a small chuff, staring at him expectantly and slightly annoyed.

Frustrated, David continued, "It's a bad idea. His wolf has chosen Emma, and we'd be sending him out in a Bloodrage."

She remained unmoving.

"Ok, ok. Let's say we _do_ send him out. We'd have to send someone out to follow him just to make sure word got back if he found… anything…." David dropped his head, his new wolf was smarter than he was, and David couldn't figure out why he was surprised. "If we send him out, the wolf finds purpose and it might sit Killian back in the driver's seat. If not, and something is found, we simply track him. If nothing is found, then we have one more nose picking up clues. You're right, you're right. Stubborn… but right."

* * *

The Changeling's call had let loose the chains on Killian's wolf and once he was out, his wolf took over their shared body and made its stances on their current issues abundantly clear with a perceptual boxing of Killian's ears. (Honestly, there were times his wolf reminded him of his long dead older brother) His wolf repeatedly chided him that keeping Emma after all of this, while a low chance indeed, was still a chance and obviously something they both wanted. It wasn't until that Siren had attempted to lure him again that his wolf lost its temper entirely; a fury that merely transferred to the next target when she vanished, which turned up as the human male who had a penchant for oversharing. So it was to Killian's immense relief that David relented and let him out to track Emma once again. His wolf donned his four feet and fur coat to make the whole affair easier, but the trail was far colder –literally and figuratively– than that morning and it yielded the same dismal results. Frustrated, but satisfied that everything it could do was done, Killian's wolf receded back knowing Killian would handle things with both of their interests taken into account. The sun had long since set, and while that normally wouldn't hinder a search by any means, it meant the temperatures were getting lower for Emma as well. He would have to regroup and head out on a quad with supplies should Emma be found alone in the woods. But David stopped him when he returned, forcing him to eat instead of loading up a unit. A concession Killian only made because finding an injured Emma while starving himself wouldn't be the idea of the year; a quota he was markedly low on. He was still kept away from the bulk of the pack due to his earlier volatile behaviors, but David stayed with him and Killian suspected the task was for more than babysitting if the set of the Alpha's shoulders meant anything. Together, they ate in the private library where Emma had been first introduced and if Killian let himself relax enough, notes of her scent lingering in the upholstery and rugs would fill his head. It became a tightrope tango between indulging his wolf with whatever parts of Emma he could find, and withholding her so as not to incite the driving need to be next to his m– his Swan. Killian wasn't in the mood to push his wolf again, or torture himself for that matter; not after finally regaining his mind. The result of the constant internal war within Killian was an uptight and strangled dinner between the men. And while one could point to David as the reason for Killian being in control again, and should be thankful to him, he was also the reason Killian was losing it all over again with the horrible dinner conversation.

"Go over it again, step by step. You might have missed something the first time you told me." David was starting to sound as frantic as Killian felt. And if they weren't very careful, they'd end up exactly as they were just that morning, snarling and snapping like rabid mongrels. They were already to the point where they couldn't be within ten feet, nor look in the general direction of each other. David's current needling and desire for a plan of attack was quickly making this an occasion where they would have to resort to phone calls and texts just to communicate. Killian, still mindful enough to give the dominant position in the room to David, kept to the far internal corner of the room where a fainting couch rested (Likely to come in handy even) and kept his back exposed to the Alpha, giving up as much submission as his wolf would allow under the circumstances. While an anxious David paced in front of his beloved fireplace, growing more impatient the more Killian's report remained the same.

"I may not be the best tracker," Killian snarled, "…but I've the best nose among anyone this side of the sodding planet. I followed Walsh's week old trail from Kansas to New York. Your own wife– " A sound of something breaking stopped Killian's words for a moment, but he continued no less strongly. "But _now_ I'm inept? This is why The Council let me remain after my Change. Why they've kept me employed rather than placed. My words haven't changed since I returned. If you don't trust what I have to tell you, best let me know now so I can break off and handle this whole affair as I do everything else."

The weight of the Alpha pressed in the room for a moment, Killian could feel David's golden eyes boring into the back of his head. He knew better than to openly challenge an Alpha like that, especially in their own territory and during times of stress. But neither would Killian be belittled, however honorable the intentions. They needed to trust him and his talents or let him loose to use them without the constraints of cooperation. So he waited, for an answer one way or another, watching David's reflections in the hung portraits as David switched between the initial change and back again, wondering how little control David was really holding onto with nearly a day gone.

David finally nodded, letting go of his push to the room. His voice defeated and a little broken as he spoke. "Just… just let me hear it one more time. Then we'll leave it for when the others arrive."

Killian flexed his hands; repetition of this variety wasn't something he handled well, but his control wouldn't last out if the Alpha's own failed. "August let me know she had been out on the Eastern Deck with him for breakfast. After the story he told, he left her alone to retrieve her a drink of water by her request. Her trail was maybe minutes old when I caught up, it led down the steps and out into the field. At her pace, it would have been less than thirty seconds to the point where her trail thinned out. Thirty seconds of walking normally before she broke into a dead run for the tree line. Her direction remained mostly east, probably keeping the sun in front of her as some sort of bearing. The whole trail smelt of panic, of fear… permeating everything around it. It led me close to the hallowed out tree, but not directly, I searched it anyway as it would be an easy marker she could remember and likely one she would have lingered at. The leaves on the ground had been disturbed in a way suggesting that someone had rested there, possibly even slept. But Emma's scent wasn't there, not anywhere in the immediate area. I tracked back to where I had last caught the trail, but it stopped dead at that point. I checked area up to 100 feet in all directions. It was like she got sucked up into the blooming air. And before you ask, yes, I did check the buggering trees to make sure she wasn't hoisted out by any means –magical or human."

"Maybe… maybe if you go back, now that you've eaten and your wolf isn't running the show, maybe you'll find something new. Mark for scents, any scent, that would be foreign in those woods–"

"Have you been listening even for a moment? This is _my life_ David; of course I was looking for all of that! There was nothing! Not a fucking thing…" He stopped and the world blurred under his own words. _Oh god I am an utter git…_

David continued on, not noticing that Killian has gone still. "It's impossible to just up and disappear like that!"

Killian waved him off wildly, turning to David for the first time since they had eaten. "No. No no nononononono. No. I mean there wasn't _anything_. I had my nose pressed to everything, and _nothing_. Not the bark on the tree, or the flora or fauna. Not the dampness that should be clinging to the ground; I barely picked up the dirt under my feet."

David twisted in confusion for a moment, working through Killian's words. His eyes growing wide as Killian lost his patience for David to catch up, causing them both to speak at once. "We have a witch."

Killian picked up the conversation again with renewed vigor. "Someone wiped the spot clean. Someone who either knew they were up against wolves or is just that paranoid."

Rapid footfalls came towards the door, and no hesitation was given for the manners for a simple knock as Robin came through looking as haggard as any of them. "Not just any witch either."

Killian arched a brow, "You heard us?"

Robin shot him a look, "Because either of you were focusing on keeping your voices down."

David's hands went to his hips, and Killian was struck with a memory of Emma taking the same stance when she wasn't pleased; blaming the smells in the room for conjuring such ideas. "What are you doing here? I was told you offered to organize a search party to comb the woods from your borders back to here."

Robin sighed, "Considering who this woman is, you'll want me here. And I wasn't about to leave my son out in the open with _that_ woman lurking about. I'm asking for shelter on his behalf."

David shrugged, "Of course, your suite is always ready and available–"

Heels came clicking in, and Killian's eyes shot upwards to the heavens. _This was just getting more entertaining by the minute._ "You brought along your _mate_ Robin? Was that really a choice you purposely made?"

"I'm here to help, not to be verbally assaulted." Regina turned to face David, "I put an enchantment on the room, for Roland's sake. I'm not willing to risk his well-being on Leroy's guarding abilities."

David held up his hands, "I'm not going to argue extra measures to protect the boy, but you can take it up with Snow when she's recovered more."

Robin's current tensions dropped dramatically, a smile of pure relief breaking across his face. "She survived then? That's wonderful news!"

Killian chuckled to himself. "Aye, and far more lucid that she should be at this stage."

Regina gave Killian and David a curious look. "She's already managed that much?"

David rubbed his face. "To a point yes. She understands what's happening around her with perfect clarity, but can't do much more to communicate back. I should be better to help her when this is over, at the very least another day or so. She's resting right now."

Regina placed an unimpressed scowl across her face. "She always was annoyingly adaptable."

An odd thing to say considering everyone in the room knew Regina thought far better of Snow than that. Killian figured her reactions were force of habit at this point, so he ignored her to continue on. "As much as we're all thrilled of Snow's condition, can we focus on Swan's? Robin you said you know who this witch could be."

Regina stiffened, drawing out Robin's hand to stroke her back. She had words ready to spill out of her mouth, but she seemed slightly frightened to say any of them. More odd behavior from the woman who had the largest streak of defiance known to man and beast alike, saying as she pleased when her fancy was struck. But she kept whatever the words were to herself, lowering her voice with a question of her own. "What makes you think it was a witch?"

 _I'm stuck in a time loop where I'm doomed to repeat the same report over and over again._ "The spot was wiped. No scent markers of our lost girl, of the person or persons that took her, and not of the surrounding woods. It was a blank slate."

Regina's face shut down from a childlike fear to total confusion. "That's sloppy. Total wipe would scream 'witch-at-play' and be a trail on its own once you knew to look for it." She looked to the floor, though it was easy to still see her eyes darting from side to side, measuring and calculating whatever facts were in her head, as she slowly began to tread in front of her mate. "She wants you to find her. Question is why."

Regina's habit of speaking in half told stories –as if she expected the whole world to know the inner workings of her head– irritated Killian to no end. "Would be wonderful to know who you speak of Regina, if you're really here to help us that is."

Her head snapped up, fire dancing in the dark depths of her eyes. "I'm here aren't I Ponyboy?"

David took a step closer to her, drawing her attention, "Please Regina. _Emma_ is important to a lot of us."

David's emphasis on Swan's name was a curious turn and normally it would cause Killian to soak up any and all tidbits that followed, as they were so obviously personal and guarded little nibbles of information. It was a vice Killian partook of when he was bored or in need of leverage; in moments where he needed to complete a task however, these hushed occasions filled with meaningful looks only serve to aggravate him. It was a stalling feeling to have both in a singular minute. But it was Emma's name invoked, so his attention sat up to the task of devouring anything and everything he could learn on the chance it could bring her home (or to present his suit should she ever come home). Killian went as still as he could, slowing his heartbeat as much as his body would allow and inched himself to the fainting couch, trying to become one with the furniture.

As easily as David's tone had caught Killian's notice, it had a paling effect on Regina's complexion. "Em– did you say her name was _Emma_?"

David in turn nodded very slow and very slight. _Interesting…_

"But not…" Regina had taken to a slight shake in her demeanor. _Very interesting…_

David bowed his head, looking for all the world like he was letting the weight of his skull bob his head.

Regina swallowed, speaking carefully. "Does Snow know?"

David shook his head in the negative, "We need Snow to come back naturally, and this would have her making rash decisions. It _has_ to wait."

Regina spun into Robin, clinging to his jacket and scarf. Heaving air into her lungs, reeking of adrenaline and looking like a thousand ghosts just performed a conga line along her grave. Robin whispered inconsequential words to her ears alone, running his hands up and down her back and through her hair. It wasn't hard to discern the old wounds from her reactions, and an easy enough step to see this one in particular was the kind that would only ever fester and scab, never properly healing no matter how much time could pass her by. And while it was all a very gripping drama, Killian only had need for theatrics directly related to getting his Swan home, and it didn't seem they were going to be forthcoming on if the Emma of their conversation was the same as his Emma stolen away.

He visibly moved and relaxed into the couch designed for women in corsets, waving his hands flippantly through the air to all in front of him. "Mind filling me in on whatever this histrionic display is?"

Regina breathed deep once… twice… still clinging to Robin as if one of them might dematerialize away in a blink. But when she spoke, her voice once again held its normal detached intonations. "Another day Jones. After we get her home." Which translated as she was so very involved in whatever this by-play was, that it was painful, and that she was likely at the foundations of it. Her head lifted to look first to Killian's eyes –an act she only dared to do when she was much, _much_ younger– and then to David's own pair. "We will get her home. My word on it."

David –still silent– finally let his shoulders drop as relief settled further into him, turning back to the fire and leaving the conversation as much as he could. Killian knew the Alpha took the protection of those on his lands seriously, personally even. But all this was doing was causing more questions to rise up in the back of Killian's head, a place he didn't like to keep them as they had a propensity for the same melodrama Regina let out regularly.

Regina turned once more to Killian, giving him the sole focus of her words; apparently he was the only one not in the know of this mystery woman. "This witch is an old one, older than you in fact. She's used various methods over the centuries to keep herself alive. Though youth was evasive until recently, well, if you consider about sixty years recent. She convinced a Fae to help her through a Change. Problem was it didn't take too well; the youth a werewolf finds after a Change never happened. She became frozen to her older age like a vampire instead. Usually, The Council forbids and destroys all Fusions because it's too much power in one person, and they don't like things they can't control one way or the other. But the Fae that helped bring her through isn't one of the lesser kind; he's one of the Old Ones, and not one The Council wanted to piss off. So the witch lived, was put to work, if only to keep tabs on her."

Killian regarded Regina, "You know her. Personally, I mean."

She flinched a little, clenching her arms tighter to her sides. "I know her well, yes. Enough to know that she's playing at something other than helping this Walsh person. She's never given a thought to actual bloodlines, let alone sire lines… it's likely she's playing him too. Wiping the site only means she was buying time until someone figured it out; she isn't hiding at all. If your nose fails you in tracking the absence of scents, then I might be able to track the magic myself. I haven't done much of anything besides the occasional healing in many years, but it shouldn't be hard to pick it back up." A shiver ran through her, Robin closed in behind Regina to whisper a few more words for only her. The effect was instantaneous, Regina gaining another inch to her height, as she stood straighter notching her chin up to whatever shadow Robin had banished with words alone. "We'll find your Swan Killian, but we need time to make a couple contingency plans. Going in with only fur and teeth won't be enough this time. She's playing games, and we need to know why."

Killian wasn't any more willing to play with Emma's fate than the rest of them, even if it meant leaving her to the whims of that blighter of a dog for an extra day. A Witch-Fusion of any variety could result in a very mangled or a very dead Emma quicker than Walsh's psychotic personality could even dream up anything remotely abusive. He'd make peace with his wolf later over the delay of Swan's return. He clocked Robin's hand snake its way over Regina's shoulder, a show of faith in the woman, though perhaps not just for her sake. Who was Killian to ignore the loyalties of one of his oldest friends? But there was still the elephant in the room they were all dancing around, so he took it by its proverbial trunk and asked the question everyone else seemed to already know the answer to. He had simply run out patience waiting for them to offer clarification. "All right Regina, who is the witch?"

She gave one glance back to Robin, sucking in a breath when Robin nodded his assurance. One more to David's form still facing the fire, taking his silence as affirmation to include Killian finally. "My mother."

_Honestly now… this is just too much daytime television for my soul here…_

* * *

It had taken them four hours to simply get on the road, organizing all manner of things that shouldn't have been an issue to start with, and the trip itself was going to take a minimum of seven hours to drive it. (Would have been less than time to get the car packed if Ruby would have been willing to fly, but even with _this_ she couldn't handle confined spaces yet.) So it was with white knuckles that Graham held the steering wheel and a led foot that propelled them closer to Brookside.

_Should have just ignored the lot of them and locked Emma up like I damn well wanted to._

Not that he blamed Killian for this (He had been shocked to learn to that one), Lance had taken the time to explain that someone let spill all the secrets they had hoped to bring Emma in on gradually. Her ironic tendencies to running being the exact reason for their temporary deception. The fact that Killian had to be restrained multiple times afterwards only proved to Graham that Killian hadn't been involved in any detrimental way that would prompt Emma to bolt, and that Killian's wolf was indeed set on claiming her (And more than willing to kill himself to do so). It was all dangerous ground now; an old wolf like Killian shouldn't ever be out of the driver's seat for more than a few moments. The rage only builds when there isn't a tether to keep the human as balance. The adrenaline alone would stop the heart eventually, if there weren't someone else to take the kill shot. It was all commendable of him… stupid, but commendable. Graham was certain that Emma wouldn't forgive anyone if they died trying to save her, Killian included. (Much to Graham's chagrin.) Wallowing in the knowledge that Emma trusted –even liked the bastard, Graham set Ruby to call ahead to set up a meeting _without_ the lovesick puppy. Possibly sedated, locked in a cell below the foundations and under silver chains if possible. Graham's contacts had finally come through with the information Killian had requested over a week ago in Granny's diner. The revelations contained therein had Graham already set to travel up to the territory, ready with a heavy hand to drag Emma back home and into his Pack House; protocol be damned. The intersecting lines between everything, the sheer amount of manipulation it had to have taken to get to this point, had him cross-eyed and ready to beg for the aspirin (not that it would work). Even then, so much had been left to simple chance… all so that witch could…

A growl worked its way from his chest, causing Ruby to reach for his thigh in a comforting rub and pat along the outside. A wave of strength flowed out from her fingertips and into his skin, helping his wolf settle back in place and under a tighter sense of control. Just another moment of proof that Graham had grossly mixed up the signals from his wolf over Ruby and Emma. A very sad and very embarrassing mistake for a wolf his age. One he hoped no one else picked up on… ever. Mercifully all sorted now, to the point where the ties that bound wolf and man felt revitalized and almost new, even though Graham and wolf still planned to keep silent on the matter. Until Emma was brought home, Ruby would never tolerate a wolf's most basic and primal needs being requested. He knew he wouldn't either, and he sure as hell didn't sense any argument from the wolf within.

_Emma first, love later._

"I don't know David, he hasn't told me… Look, I'm just playing messenger since he's going through some internal struggle and driving at the same time, and I'd really like to make it there with the vehicle intact if it's all the same to you… Yes he needs his attention on the road and his hands on the wheel… " She had picked up her volume to bring him back to the current discussion. The fact that she knew he was berating himself was another notch on his growing belt of embarrassment.

"Look I get the why Red, but Killian's wolf took over when Emma went missing. Belle couldn't calm him, Ariel couldn't charm him, and I couldn't even force him into his wolf-skin. He's either more dominant than he's ever let on to anyone, or his wolf has settled further on Emma than we thought; God help us if it's both. If we try to sedate him now –and there's little guarantee that it'll hold long if at all– it will no doubt set off his wolf again, and we'll have lost any trust with him in this situation. We _need_ that right now."

Any phone conversation within a wolf's hearing might as well be a conversation on speakerphone, though most wolves simply chose to tune it out for some semblance of privacy. Graham decided to go against the basic manners of phone etiquette in the name of saving time. "I'm not coming with good news David. If he overhears what I've found out, it'll only be worse for all of us. I'm not even looking forward to telling _you_ frankly, nor am I looking forward to the lot of you having the expected reaction in concurrence with Killian's. If you won't put him out, send him out. I don't fecking care what errand it is, he cannot find out at the same time as the rest of you."

Ruby shifted the phone so it was between the both of them, resigning from messenger to a pretty perch for the contraption, sighing as she did so with an arched brow. _Noted, Ruby prefers manners…_

David continued with a sigh of his own, "We've already had bad news other than Emma's disappearance. I don't think yours could top it."

Ruby tsked. "Oh I don't know about that David. Ours is high on the epically fucked up scale…"

David huffed –out of exasperation or humor no one really knew, "Tell me you're not making a bet out of which of us has the worst news Ruby."

"Of course I'm not. That would be crude. I'm just saying we found a big pile of shit, and the creatures that it all fell from."

"Cause that wasn't crude." Voiced both Alphas at once, bringing a moment of levity to the day. A Ruby specialty.

"Ok, how far out are you guys?" David braved on.

"Just under two hours."

"I'll see what I can pull with Killian. No promises though. Surf and Turf for dinner tonight, so don't stop for anything." He paused for a minute, never a good thing from the Brookside Alpha. "Robin is here helping; we're providing shelter for his son. And his mate." Graham's grip on the wheel ripped a few stiches in the leather cover, something David had to have heard. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Graham swallowed back the bile that always arose when he was forced to remember his time with Regina.

Ruby jumped in for him, the wonderful girl, "No. As long as she's helping –and I do mean genuinely helping, not _her version_ of helping – then we should be good."

"I need to hear Graham say it. No offense Red."

More bile came, another swallow. Then a small surge of tranquility came from his wolf, bringing with it the reality that if he can hold off on claiming Ruby for Emma's sake, then dealing with the witch could be done too. So he breathed. In and out slowly, letting the idea fill him.

"Graham?"

"Yeah David. It'll be fine. I can work with her, but don't expect anything other than the most basic civility from my end."

If emotions could be transmitted via cellular phones, David's relief and gratitude could have filled the car and spilled over onto the road; it was that palpable. "Good enough for me. Be safe and see you two soon."

The call ended. Ruby leaned over resting her head on Graham's shoulder. "You're a good man Graham Humbert."

"Actually I'm an utter git. But you'll eventually see that." _Even if I have to spend every day being one for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just prior to finishing this chapter the first time, a tumblr user came into my purview. She had liked the first chapter (I had submitted it to Spoopy Week), followed me, and hoped I would continue at some later point. At that time, I laughed at the idea. There was one bad night, and I made an obscure post with emoji's... she caught on and reached out. With no other reason that to see if she could be a temporary shoulder to catch tears or temporary ears to catch my problems. We talked, long and often for the next few weeks. She showed me her art, so I revealed that EDwtD had continued long past the initial chapter and the noted 15 that made it to these sites. I sent her copies, and she began her own push for me to bring it back. She offered to make some fanart of the apartment scene, and I (quite forcefully) put a stop to it. Something I now regret, but wasn't ready for at the time. But she was the final push I needed because she hadn't known me long enough to have a biased opinions (looking right at you Maria and Kate). She is the straw that broke the back so to speak. It wasn't too long after that I decided to test waters one more time. I haven't heard from her in a while, I know she's busy, but I hope she's been keeping up with the postings. If you go to Tumblr, Branmayfield would be the user to thank. Check out her art too, its the shit you see in comic books and graphic novels. 
> 
> Lots of people have been commenting about the opening note recently. To be clear, that was mostly something to explain to previous followers what had happened. I took it as a way to also get a point across, hoping that the criticism I received could either be used to discourage commenters from offering free advice when they aren't sure how their words will be taken, or that other authors will get the courage to ignore that backhanded advice no matter who it comes from. I want to state point blank, that the people who spoke to me the first time were genuinely trying to help. I firmly believe that they didn't know how hurtful their words were to me. The people responsible don't even know who they are as I've never confronted them with it. My perception is NOT their problem. 
> 
> The lesson, my sweetloves, is to know your audience. If you don't know how your words will be taken, don't speak, or at least take time to make sure your intent and meanings are taken they way you mean them to be. 
> 
> On my tumblr, I occasionally post EDwtD Extras. Where I'm able to explain a bit more about processes and backstories without dragging the chapter on. And no, I don't give spoilers in them. Check them out, ask me things... you get the idea.
> 
> Now, Grandmother is revealed. Regina introduced. The Changeling though... that'll come next chapter.


	23. There Are Methods in Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warnings: Chapters 22, 23, and 24 will feature (spanning throughout all three) unsolicited touch, unsolicited voyeurism, behavioral modification through violence and coercion, violence to a woman by way of damaging her flesh, exhibitionism via masturbation in front of and on an unwilling audience, forced drug use.**

**Chapter 22**

**There Are Methods in Madness**

* * *

Robin had pulled Killian aside, requesting that Killian run the new information to Robin's wolves out in the northern woods. Stressing that his pack shouldn't be out patrolling without the necessary protections and what not. It made sense of course. As did David's plea for Killian to track down the wiped trail the witch had left behind. Pointing out that if he was going to be out in the woods already, why not take the time to figure out a clue, a direction, anything that could give them a head start in planning Emma's rescue.

All logical points.

All very convenient points.

All serving the purpose of removing him from the house just as Graham and Rubles were set to arrive.

_Go play outside Killian, the adults are talking._

His wolf snorted inside. Other than Robin, Killian was the oldest one there, and to be treated like a naughty child was mildly amusing. Oh he'd still run the information to the north woods, wolves don't do well around witches, this one being a bloody Fusion made matters far more dire. Killian stripped in one of the many mudrooms this castle held, needing to race on four feet once again, hoping to make it back in time to catch whatever little coup d'état the lot of them had planned; meaning Killian was pushed to send out another wish that Emma would forgive him yet another delay. He hadn't ever been the type to fly into a battle when information was still being collected, and the more he had at his disposal, the more likely he'd retrieve Emma in one piece. The fact that _any_ of them were trying to manage him was a dead giveaway to the nature of the news Ruby and Graham were bringing along, and should he be brought in on it, Killian was sure the information would be drop fed to him as time ticked on and likely whitewashed to its least severe incarnation.

_Bugger that._

He cleared the overgrown grass on the return trip just as Graham and Ruby were racing through the door. While perfect in his timing and surely a new record from Brookside to Robin's northern encampment, his primary entry was gone to shite now. He could enter as he normally would, but that would risk discovery and the edited conversations he wanted to avoid. He could shift to human and climb the outside walls once he figured out what room they would be using, but that would cost him whatever valuable information they could cover during the time used to first find the proper window and then the actual climbing. And while he could heal faster than the sting could register, he would still be naked climbing said walls and having to scrape the skin off of his sword and two stones wasn't a particular pain he was into, however brief it might be.

_Oh to be a shifter fly on that wall…_

* * *

The table sat David at its head; as it should per rank, per habit, per etiquette. It wasn't a matter anybody discussed. To his right –by the same reasons– sat his second. Lance by no means had the emotional investment the rest of the gathered group did, but he attended for the sake of posterity and a second line should efforts fail. For what they had to do, someone back home had to know the full scope of the troubles come to Brookside. Lance's right was covered by Graham, papers and files scattered in front of him rather than the neat piles everyone else retained. The other end of the table, where David's mate should sit, remained empty. Snow couldn't attend this meeting, and no one was willing to sit in her spot. Ruby chose her old chair that would have been at Snow's right hand; habits were hard to break, but it also kept her seated across from her Alpha (A needed spot as tensions rose considerably with both Humbert and Mills in the same room). Regina had refrained from sitting down from the start. Normally, such a move would be viewed as an insult, but everyone knew she simply couldn't remain stationary long enough to think clearly; she needed the movements of her legs to keep her thoughts moving forward. Robin sat still enough for the both of them, filling the last spot between Ruby's right and David's left. His eagle eyes trained on any small flicker of movement and a voice of soft reprimand when emotions climbed too high. _Had_ Snow been there, the link would be complete. David's most trusted to his right and Snow's to hers; forming a tight circle strengthened by decade's worth of faith and trials. The animosity between everyone was as thick as the worry for what was lurking just outside their borders, but worry carried more weight, causing the judgments to be set aside for however long it was needed. Petty things could wait.

All was business as they traded the information quickly in the small time window they had available, first with Regina's debrief of what she knew of her mother's tactics and admitted goals, then with the final connections Graham's people had managed to bring to light. Killian was due back any moment from his errand, not they would have been able to notice his return at this current moment. Stunned, would be the generalized word for everyone, though hardly the most accurate. David wore his variation with a shell-shocked countenance, as if he had seen the ends of the universe and came back betrayed. Lance displayed far more disgust on his face as he wasn't at all familiar with the witch in question, just her actions and their consequences laid out before him. Robin –while never dealing with the woman directly– probably had the most time dealing with the mess Cora left in her wake, and as a result, sat there with a face morphing between despair and murder. Ruby and Graham had their time to absorb the information, so they sat waiting for the others to come up from their stupors.

Regina was the only one whose reaction remained unknown other than the panic rolling off of her every now and then as she continued her movements throughout the room. "You're sure Graham? No doubts at all?"

Graham didn't look to her, eyes fixed on the paper his fingers were set to pick at. His voice came low, full of sick amusement, "You never used to doubt my word on such things."

A response that earned him a swift kick under the table from Ruby, and Robin's head darting to Graham's direction; a dark warning marring his usual carefree features.

Regina scowled, but held her temper, "I didn't mean it that way. I meant only that we have to be certain; there can't be any wiggle room with this. You think things are bad now? Just wait and see what they can be if you're contacts had even one detail wrong. And before you think it, no, I'm not threatening you. I'm trying to give everyone a fair warning. My mother plays dirty, and Killian won't care about collateral damage if this goes sideways."

Graham sighed, still refusing to look her way. "To be fair Regina, does it even matter? We know it's her out there with Walsh. That alone warrants a kill. If this information is correct, then Killian finding out Cora is his handler will only give him more incentive. To find out why she ended up his handler and why she's helping Walsh… this level of manipulation won't be tolerated by him, not on any scale."

"It wouldn't by any of us. But this also means my mother has been climbing the ranks towards The Council. She wants power; it's all she's ever wanted. Her rise to handler would have been paved in blood because she abhors waiting. The fact that she stopped there means she found something she could use to get her higher and faster than simply taking out the next superior in her way. If that something is Killian, we need to be sure. For his sake and ours."

The head of the table spoke in a quiet voice, "Sounds like more incentive."

Regina swallowed. "Yes, but I know my mother. Dealing with people is beneath her, she wouldn't do such dirty work herself. She has someone powerful helping her, or at the very least, someone powerful that owes her… or maybe she owes them. The best way we can find out if Killian is her new toy is to find out if he knew about this. Can we be sure he isn't her lapdog in this?" Four sets of glowing eyes fixed on her, even those of her beloved. She raised her hands in surrender, "Just trying to cover all bases. A witch with a werewolf familiar is illegal but not uncommon. But if all of you are ready to believe his innocence…"

Robin and Ruby began a small duet of growling at the implication.

But the eyes of David and Graham dimmed as the fear of memories took hold deep inside.

* * *

Snow found that her new hearing was amazingly well developed. She was a full room away and the sound still carried through the ancient stones as if she was sitting on the table as everyone plotted and planned around her. She felt her skin quiver with a new need she wasn't used to. A need for blood to flow, a need for death by her hands… or claws… whatever was nearby would do. It wasn't a feeling Snow enjoyed, but a new part of her felt was highly justified and more than overdue in this owed penance.

_No, this isn't right._

This wasn't her. This was the new one inside her. The one that felt too much of what the world offered.

She forced her new legs to move down the halls and through the doors until she entered the nursery. It wasn't a better venue to help the simmering in her bones, but it gave her focus. It always gave her focus.

It was a room they had barely begun to use, back when their daughter was just learning to walk. They had rebuilt it after the fires, filled it with the charred bodies of the stuffed animals that had once graced it. Morbid and macabre yes… but it was all she had left of her baby girl, letting go of any of it just wasn't a possibility.

Even now, with her new nose, the only thing she could smell was the ash and smoke from that day.

Regina had been the one to initiate that fight and had been the reason for it, but it was Cora that had lit the fires – literal and metaphorical.

The simmering boiled over inside her, bursting out of the marrow and into the sinew. Pain bloomed everywhere with sudden jarring stabs to her flesh. It was fitting that the first attempt to change back happened here. Among the burnt remains of her daughter's things. All so she could properly help and face down the woman that ripped her angel away, and save someone new.

No one should be forced to endure Cora.

_This is right._

This was Snow. Not bent on rage of punishment, but aggressively eager to set things right. The one that understood too much of what the world could take away.

* * *

They had been right to send him away. He had missed the bulk of the details during his climb, but the finale was enough to tell him everything.

Already the wolf within was crying for blood payment. Killian knew of the Fusion Cora, but he only ever knew his handler as a woman who insisted he keep to the letter "C" as her designation. _"Cloak and Dagger games don't work when they know how to find you boy."_ She would say. Hiding the truth in plain sight. He would admire the level of cunning if he weren't so infuriated. He didn't blame any of them inside that room for suspecting him as an accomplice, he would have too had it been anyone else in the same circumstance, and not likely to stop long enough to find out the entire truth before issuing his own penalty. He rose from his spot in the adjacent room. Now was the time for his entrance, for the assurances that he wasn't the villain in this story, and to give over everything he could on the version of Cora he had been shown during his time with her.

Regrettably, Regina didn't seem all that convinced to his lack of involvement. "I still say I should work a couple spells to make sure he's not lying to us. The Captain finds out that he's been played for decades now, and we get a calm understanding? He lost it to his wolf when Emma was taken, and this is all we get when he finds out _his_ handler is _my_ mother?"

Killian smiled –at least it felt like one, he couldn't be sure at this point. "Oh, we shouldn't be casting stones darling. Weren't you that same woman's tool for revenge not too long ago? How can we be sure you aren't simply the wolf in sheep's clothing, as it were? Biding your time until both of you are in position to attack again?" Fire burned in her eyes as before, so he pushed on without letting her defend herself. "If we're quite done trying to point fingers? We are willing to bide time for the hunt, as a premature attack could result in damage to Emma –though too long and she'll be dead, and that wouldn't be at all advisable. So please continue forming a battle plan, constructing scouting parties, plenty of work to go around surely. We await our duties to perform."

Perhaps they were surprised at his demeanor, or maybe it was just shock that he wasn't taking the bait Regina had laid out before him, but things progressed much smoother afterwards. Plans were given in precise detail, something he could appreciate, even if no one looked directly in his direction while speaking to him. He didn't think their turned bodies were necessary but for once took pleasure in not being the focus of the room. It wasn't so bad; the world had reduced to three points of light. Kill Walsh. Save Emma. Kill Cora. This world only had one star to warm the air, and order must be maintained; only one star would remain to warm his blood. His life before and after his Change had never so simple. There was a certain calmness in this reduction of reality, not even protesting when David suggested the underground holding cell, the one they had built to hold some powerful being at some point.

"For the good of my Pack. When we have a final plan, we'll come get you. You'll be a part of this I swear, but for right now I need to keep you separate from the rest."

"Of course Dave. Need pixie dust to find the red slippers, or we'll never get over the rainbow to find the second star to the right."

* * *

Killian had made being captive to Walsh sound horrifying with days filled by pet like servitude and nights of brutal rape. ( _Yeah ok, the previous interactions with Walsh weren't doing much to argue Killian's point.)_ But this? Hell, Emma experienced group homes that never had it so good. Walsh would bring her everything from freshly washed clothes to every meal served on a tray with a flower in a small vase. He was always calm and gentle, more or less leaving her alone unless she needed something. It was to the point where Emma had to wonder if maybe Walsh wasn't responsible for a single thing to the girls, other than care for them between visits from Grandmother. He was perfectly attentive the first three days, like you would expect a servant to be when their master had fallen ill or injured.

For the first three days.

Then it began small; Emma would have to ask for simple things Walsh had merely handed over before. Breakfast was still freely given, but he would forget the fork or something to drink. Emma wondered if he had timed the toilet paper to run out when it did, because asking for that hadn't just been embarrassing but downright uncomfortable. Walsh then began to linger in his attentions, watching her perform mundane tasks like eating, or washing her hands. Emma would jerk her bound leg and rattle the chain when he overstayed or took a step too close, as the sound seemed to remind him of whatever rules he had set up for himself –or maybe Grandmother had set up. However, it didn't give Emma any delusions that she was here under any other capacity than his leisure. He was the big bad wolf in charge for the moment and she was just using whatever tricks seemed to work to keep the game going for as long as she could. Someone was bound to save her soon.

It was on the sixth night –ignoring that it had been nearly a week and every last one of those wolves that swore up and down to help keep her from this exact situation _had yet to show_ – that Walsh strode in with her dinner. It was fish, a whole fish; something grilled with lemons and random green herbs Emma wouldn't know the names to. He had forgotten the fork, though Emma had caught on that these moments of forgetfulness were intentional, forcing her to ask things of him, forcing her to need him. And if she believed she caught onto his pattern correctly, then tonight was the last night before things changed again. He was training her to behave as he would like her to; the question now was if he would use positive reinforcement, negative punishment, or an absence of reaction until the correct move was made. His method didn't matter, dominance games were played the world over, and Emma was adept in all formats. She'd figure out his and play along until the cavalry came. Walsh had remained in her room to watch her eat this fish dinner, sitting in the chair that was only showed up when he was there, though she never saw him bring it in or heard it being dragged. He kept his hands folded neatly in his lap, eyes trained on every movement her own hands made. Her hands weren't precisely steady and they shook a little as she moved food to mouth; he hadn't been giving her any caffeine and the withdrawal was finally hitting her. Knowing his personality was likely to change again soon wasn't helping her general anxiety at all either. So she moved slower, keeping careful to not spill a bite. The fish was good, even though fish wasn't really high on her list of things she willingly ate. Bite number twelve, however, was really good, and Emma chewed extra slow to savor it properly. She let her mind drift a little during the course, needing these small moments of fantasy to keep herself otherwise sane. Committing acts of murder to somehow come across a burger and onion rings was always in genuine consideration. ( _If only I had someone to kill for a plate… Oh hey, Walsh?_ ) Maybe Granny would be so kind as to make her some when she got home… if she got home. There was psycho-dog-boy, escaping, and that creepy old lady to deal with first, not in any real particular order.

Walsh was still watching as Emma as she polished off the plate, though he still wasn't speaking –or moving much at all, where he usually jumped up to clear away the dishes from her bed. Emma was right; he was changing rules again. Except she wasn't sure in which direction he was taking them. She wiped her hands and mouth with the cloth napkins he always brought, hoping to use up some time to think of an answer, but nothing came to mind as to what else he would be waiting on to happen. The tray of used dishes made it impossible to sit comfortably or quietly, so she resigned to moving it off to the end of the bed where it wouldn't wobble, but still be away from her. Walsh's face contorted into a frown; it was the wrong move. She wondered if she should bring it back to her lap, but something had her thinking that doing so might push him further down the wrong way. These games were tricky when you first discover the rules. Walsh was still looking at the tray, looking like it had manifested from another realm only to irritate him. Emma would have to pull his attention away from it if she didn't want him overthinking her move and punishing her for it. This new idea to buy even more time wasn't a choice Emma wanted to do, but things hadn't progressed into "bad" yet, and Emma wanted to avoid "bad" for as long as possible. Maybe she would get lucky and get something out of this if she did it right.

_I just really don't want to do it._

"Dinner was good Walsh, did you cook it yourself?" Resorting to pleasant and praising conversation with the abuser can save your life, or drive them deeper into their delusion. It wasn't in Emma to stomach this phase for long.

She waited for a reaction, any reaction, but he still sat and stared at the tray, looking more offended as he did. Not antagonizing the captor while chained inside his home is always a good choice to make, if only she could figure how to stop doing so when she was only sitting there. Emma watched him now as she reached for the drink he had remembered to bring her this time. Slow careful movements, to capture his attention again (He was always fixated on her hands) and to keep him from startling at sudden gestures. It was like being in a zoo and watching the caged animal sit there doing nothing, wondering if they've been broken mentally, or if they were waiting until you'd become entranced enough by them that when they jump in your direction, they scare the hell out of you. Somehow, Emma felt the feeling was mutual. A furrow gathered between his brows and Emma figured she was in for a corrective lesson if she didn't get him doing something else soon.

 _I'm gorging on a Godiva chocolate for every concession I make to this asshole._ "Walsh? Could you take this tray to the kitchen for me? I would but…" Emma twitched her leg under the covers, letting the chain rattle. "…kinda tied up at the moment." She hoped the joke ( _Very Ha. Much funny._ ) would help drag him back to the guy he had been at the start of her imprisonment.

It did, to a point. His attention moved from the tray to her face, a slight smug satisfaction in place of the frown, but still he didn't move or say anything. Emma looked around the room, hoping a clue would develop on the walls by way of glaring neon sign or a poster chart of what to do and what not to do. He had escalated from providing to making her ask. She asked… so next would be…

 _Ugh… ew…_ "Please?"

Walsh beamed at her, "Of course Emma."

He busied himself with the task of clearing away her food, leaving the room to place the dishes wherever he placed them. Emma took the moment to adjust bite number twelve of the fish dinner into a more comfortable place in her cheek, one where she could talk more freely and not have it discovered. Hopefully they hadn't moved on to the full body inspections yet. Walsh returned as he always did, with fresh bedclothes, but this time he came with a pushcart of towels and toiletries for washing herself up, complete with a couple of buckets brimming with steaming hot water. ( _Scalding would be a better word, judging by that steam._ ) She hates him, but she hasn't had a chance to be properly clean in over a week. It's a glimmer of gratefulness she feels, just a glimmer. She watched as he placed everything carefully for easy reach and use, finalizing with a step away from his little display –anxious and waiting again.

Which apparently was her new cue. "Um… thank you."

He was visibly pleased she'd shown her gratitude, but did nothing other than watch her again. She wants what he's offered –as much as it makes her want to revisit that damn fish for dinner– but she isn't _that_ grateful. Not for what his price was looking to be. "Don't you want your bath Emma?"

She shifted on the bed, "I would. But I can't exactly do that with someone watching; wouldn't be proper." _HA! Take that Mister I-Need-All-The-Manners._

He smiled softly, like a parent to a silly child. "You can if you come over here and start."

Emma broke her façade of patient politeness for the first time. "I'm not letting you see me naked."

But he just smiled bigger, "Why not? Not like I haven't seen it already."

"What? When?"

His patronizing tone continued to bring the fish back from the dead inside her stomach. "I can come in here any time of the day or night as I like Emma. And there's always the camera feed."

_He's been… oh god…_

He stepped a little closer to her, misreading her shock for something Emma didn't ever want to name. "I have to make sure you're ok through the night and when I'm not in here with you. Can't have a moment of panic pushing you to do something stupid… like running." Something wicked entered his eyes, "I remember how much you enjoy running."

There were lemons in her throat, but his words brought her back enough to bring her voice along the way. "Ok, bathing by myself will go a long way in keeping me from panicking right now. You can sense that right? Emotions carry certain smells yeah?"

God help her he leaned in and breathed her deep. "I smell anticipation." His hips jutted forward just a little, and those lemons moved up to the back of her mouth.

"Please, may I bathe alone?" She wasn't above dropping to her knees and begging at this point. She needed him out of the room.

His shoulders dropped, and his face returned to the gentle demeanor he had before. "I appreciate such a polite request. But the answer is still no." Emma froze, he would make her do this, and the scales were heavily in his corner if she tried to fight him.

 _He had already…_ lemons were in her mouth.

His eyes flashed red, "I won't ask again."

Emma moved carefully again. This time, to make sure her limbs moved towards him and not collapse her body to the floor. She held her back as straight as she could, finding a place somewhere in her head she could hide. He moved her like he would a doll as he stripped off her clothes, his fingertips only touching when it was unavoidable. He soaked the washcloth, rubbing her body down with plain water first. Her mind cut out to black space when his hands rubbed over her breasts and vaginal area. His movements repeated exactly as he rubbed her down with his soap of choice, and again as he gave her a final rinse. She supposed she should be happy that it was more mechanical than sexual, but the way his breathing had picked up only told her the sexual wasn't far enough off. He was near panting when he moved to rub her dry with the final towel; rough and harsh like he was angry at her skin for being wet. Killian had been angry too when he washed her, but he hadn't been this hard on her skin, he had been too set on removing Walsh's scent…

Pieces fell into place and Emma wanted to cry. A quick sniff to the air told Emma that the soap Walsh had chosen was something you'd use on an infant. Walsh could still smell Killian on her skin, even after a week of different clothes, even after a fish and lemon dinner. His choice in soaps had been to further the idea that she was his sweet girl and to override the lingering scent of another male. He _was_ angry at her skin for hanging onto the smell as long as it had, and maybe still did. Emma hadn't noticed it, but losing it –any of it– broke a small chunk inside her chest. Walsh took her chin in his hands, smiling to her as he undoubtedly picked up on the growing despair.

_Probably thinks I'm sad the bath is over the douche-canoe._

He handed her a long nightshirt and a pair of panties. Both big enough for her, but closer resembling items you'd put a little girl in for a warm night. Passed her knees and thick flannel, flowers, and just a little bit of lace trim for added frills. "I want you to put these on, then stand in the far corner of the room. I'm going to change your bedding tonight, can't have a clean girl sleeping in a dirty bed can we?"

Her smell –and what would have been transferred off her skin and hair of Killian's– was going to disappear in the next wash, replaced by whatever he preferred. Emma felt broken enough to obey his commands, staying in the corner and out of the way, shaking slightly in the growing cold. Walsh moved about her room, clearing things and shuffling blankets. Still she stood, trying to find those empty spaces in her head to hide again. He gave her a smile and a "Good girl" to find her unmoved, bringing the taste of the herbs this time to her mouth, their bitter acidity burning her chest. He turned down the covers and on autopilot Emma moved to get in the bed. A growling sound came from his direction, startling her out of her empty thoughts. She tried another step, but the sound got harder to her ears. So she backed up to her original spot, noting how his angry noises became quieter with each step backwards. She waited for his permission, but he said nothing, did nothing, as he had done most of the night.

 _Right… manners…_ "May I go to bed now? I'm really tired." His face softened, but still did nothing. _Right…_ "Please?"

He opened his hands and arms wide, inviting her to lay down, "Of course Emma." He didn't move away as she climbed in the linens that smelled of too much of baby powder. Before she completely settled, he was going through the motions of tucking her into bed. He brushed away the hair from her face and leaned down to kiss her temple. "Good night my sweet girl."

He turned off the light and left her alone to taste the fish dinner reincarnating itself in her mouth. She counted to 100 once, and it helped to get the vomit under control. The second time assured her that Walsh wasn't returning for the night. He had mentioned a camera, and while Emma hadn't found evidence of one, she wouldn't take the chance that he might find out what bite number twelve had given her. So she rolled, burrowing her face into the pillows and dragging the new blanket high up to her face. She hoped it looked more like she was cuddling with the overpowering baby smells he was dousing her in, rather than the truth of her hiding her new treasure. Her fingers crawled into her mouth, gingerly removing bite number twelve from its hiding spot along her gum line between her teeth and cheek. Walsh was either really bad at deboning, or he had forgotten how many bones fish had when it was easier to just eat through it all. It wasn't much, just a tiny rib bone. It wouldn't be able to cause any damage to anything, but if she managed to dry it out, it would at least allow her to keep mark of the days. And if he served that dish again, then maybe she could find another and try picking the damn lock on her ankle.

* * *

Walsh took to washing her body and changing her clothes every night. He didn't touch her in the sexual ways she always expected him to, but she threw up every night all the same as if he did. She could blame the food he fed her as it descended from elaborate meals to things that barely covered the nutritional value needed to survive. She could blame the over use of baby soaps and powders Walsh used on everything. She could blame both and no one would accuse her reasoning of being an overreaction. But the sad reality was Emma _wanted_ those small things to be the reasons she kept throwing up, so she could continue to hide in her head. Unfortunately, every night, reality would crash through and the impact would destroy her nerves. The almost touches, the increasing demand he placed on her to ask for things –sometimes beg for them– and be grateful afterward _if_ he granted them to her. (It was the almost touches, that could easily become too much touches). If there was a camera, he either wasn't watching or he didn't care about her nighttime habits. It didn't matter. Not his lack of concern –not that she would want it even if he offered– nor the vomiting; though Emma was sure she was losing too much weight this way. It still didn't matter.

The fish bone dried out well and became as good as a needle. Not much she could do with it other than mark out her time at Château de Loco in little dots near the toilet base, but a tool was a tool and this was one of hers, not his. She kept the marks small enough that he shouldn't notice them, and pass off as nothing important should he make an inspection of her space. After each purge and mark made, she would rinse her mouth, and climb back into the bed meant for a little girl. The ever-present chain around her ankle prevented total comfort and should have made genuine rest impossible, but her dreams come anyway. Three dogs running after her. One chestnut brown, one brindle, and one black; running at full speed and looking rabid with white foamy spit gathering along their muzzles. She never felt fear when these dreams came, but relief. Three dogs running to her with death in their eyes, and she welcomed them each time they came.

It didn't take long for Emma to figure out that Walsh had changed his basic M.O. for her, and most likely because of his Grandmother; Emma was being treated differently than Walsh's previous girls. The fact that she knew that information _at all_ left her wanting to kiss Killian for letting her see all his collected files and explaining anything she questioned about them. It was an edge that helped her navigate Walsh's behavioral switches, which in turn helped keep her alive. Walsh's aggression stayed low, and Emma did what she could stomach –or what she could blank out on– to keep him there. But time was running out as he was getting agitated more often, likely anxious to get on with things as he always had.

Her luck was running out, his patience was wearing thin… _where the fuck is my rescue?_

It was on the eleventh night, during her dinner, when he broke his usual silence and spoke first. "Grandmother will be here tomorrow. She'll want to see your progress, how well you've come along in behavior. I expect you to show her how well you've learned your manners by now, how much I've already taught you."

_Well that explains all this waiting around…_

His tone was pleasant enough, but the waiting had affected him too. This wasn't a request like he had been able to give last week, this was an order, one that promised punishment if disobeyed. And judging by his lack of breathing, he was waiting for her to acknowledge his command. She swallowed her bite (A subzero bath one night showed her that he wasn't keen on her speaking with a full mouth), folded her hands in her lap and away from her tray to show her attention was now entirely on him.

"How wonderful, I'd enjoy a visit from Grandmother." He beamed; she had done it right.

He kissed her temple and tucked her in. She counted to 100 before throwing up in the toilet. She marked the day gone, and rinsed her mouth. She climbed in bed and waited for the dogs to come in her dreams. They weren't running this time, but curled up with her in this child's bed. The chestnut under her head, the brindle taking the little spoon position in front of her, the black behind her stretched long and covering her from neck to knee. His low growl as they all slept was a comfort that made her weep to remember its origin.

_Sorry guys, I don't know what's keeping you, but I can't sit pretty anymore._

Her dream dogs all shuffled closer, the black one making a whining sound in her ear. They were worried, but things needed to move forward. She had been with Walsh now for almost two weeks, and something was stopping her family from coming to get her.

Grandmother's visit tomorrow was reality crashing in again. Walsh had been holding off his normal routine to please this Grandmother, who for some reason needed Emma to have manners before Walsh used her up. Emma had a choice now: either Emma passes the test and Walsh is given the go to do as he pleases, or she fails and chances pissing them both off.

_Stupid dominance games._

Emma was tired of playing.


	24. The Choices We Make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warnings: Chapters 22, 23, and 24 will feature (spanning throughout all three) unsolicited touch, unsolicited voyeurism, behavioral modification through violence and coercion, violence to a woman by way of damaging her flesh, exhibitionism via masturbation in front of and on an unwilling audience, forced drug use.**

**Chapter 23**

**The Choices We Make**

* * *

Walsh had decided to dress Emma in a costume of soft white lounge pants with matching top for Grandmother's visit. He mumbled on about being pure as he brushed out her hair, choosing to leave it down as he spoke of being natural and untouched. He all but melted into a corner though when Grandmother came as promised; reminding Emma more of a small spoiled Yorkie than a wolf. The woman sat herself primly and as close to Emma as possible for the interrogation; there wasn't a way this was a cordial visit, Emma had experienced enough interrogations from both sides of the table to recognize the taste in the air. Grandmother carried on as if she was the old Victorian lady she dressed up as, stopping by for a visiting tea with a friend in the same social circle. She kept her face pleasant enough, but it was her eyes that gave her away, calculating shifts and twitches that wouldn't crack the makeup that tracked everything Emma said or did; Grandmother's lips were painted red and Emma couldn't shake the feeling that real blood had stained the skin permanently more than any cosmetic tool. Grandmother had definitely honed this craft, all of it amazingly effective. However, Emma had been lying to scary authoritative people since she could talk; werewolves or no, this was a game Emma knew by heart. She played her part and kept to every manner Walsh had made her perform in the softest, smallest voice she could manage. Adding a twitch of a flinch here and there when Grandmother's tone hinted to and edge of something angrier.

_Appear a little broken, appear pleasing, give them what they want… mentally murder them as brutally as I like…_

Somewhere along the line of questioning, the air started to taste different and Emma began to lose her footing. Grandmother –showing how good she was to this game– shifted gears and the interrogation morphed into an interview. More or less the same things at the root, but the tactics are different enough to trip up even a well-seasoned liar. Emma was being maneuvered to consciously prove she wanted the position of being Walsh's pet, to willingly choose this fate. It was a sick mind-fuck that encouraged the urge to vomit in Emma's stomach as the need to punch the old woman in the face ached her knuckles. She held herself in check and willed the interview to move along so she could last another day; lashing out now might speed things up to an ending more fatal than Emma is ready to accept. So it was a minor miracle when Grandmother brought everything to a sudden close, rising from her chair without further word; Walsh following her out without prompt or command. Emma was finally alone; the need to let out her breath in a whoosh was as nearly upsetting in its demand as the previous sensations had been. But alone didn't mean she wasn't being watched for a break in her character, or a surprise re-entrance to catch her in the act of anything that would suggest she wasn't the sweet girl Walsh was setting her up to be. A million paranoid possibilities ran their course through Emma's head, keeping her glued to the bed and silent to consider each of them. A good thing to Emma's thinking, anything to keep herself alive while Grandmother was in the house. The interview wasn't over until the old bitch was gone.

_Survive. Swallow it down and survive._

Fifteen minutes hadn't even passed before Walsh returned, rolling in a TV ripped from the 1980's and the corresponding VCR player. His face was split into a wide grin and Emma despised the relieved reaction she had in seeing it, even though his general happiness meant she wasn't harmed or dead. While he was a loathsome lech of a man, after nearly two weeks Walsh had yet to be as bad as anything else Emma had been through. Keeping him content until she could find a way out seemed to be the easiest way to get out alive, and so far, simple enough to manage. He pulled the chair close to the bed, grabbing her hand while using a brick of a remote to turn on the ancient screen. He was smiling and his hand was clammy and Emma felt the need to vomit climb back up her throat. The screen lit up with the iconic blue of the Disney opening, the audio had people singing, asking the viewer how the girl got to where she was. And while _Alice in Wonderland_ was fitting, Emma felt more like she landed in Oz, although Walsh's projected idea that Emma was a little girl held no dispute now.

He leaned over far too close to Emma's ear for her liking. "Grandmother approves of you. She had to leave though, I'm sorry you couldn't say your good-byes. Shouldn't be too long before we see her again."

* * *

The lunch that followed was a thick, but simple soup. Some sort of broccoli and cheese deal, to which Walsh had forgotten the spoon. This was familiar ground and Emma played the part by giving her smallest voice to ask for the utensil as politely as she could. Walsh smiled at her attempt, clearly pleased she was still on her best behavior.

Instead of handing over the tool as he normally would, he lifted a long polished stick to lay over his lap. Skinny and brown, it resembled bamboo in its texture and coloring and wobbled enough to be flexible without breaking, "Not today my sweet girl. Today I want you to drink it straight from the bowl. Mind your manners and no slurping. You slurp, and it's a count of the cane. You spill, and it's two. You make a mess and it'll be until I'm sure you've learned your lesson. Do you understand Emma?"

"Are… are you serious?" She was shocked enough that she forgot to play the part he wanted her to play.

His hands gripped the center of the cane, cluing Emma in that she was screwing things up quickly. "Very. It's a task you're going to have to get used to eventually. Now, ask me again, or delay your lunch further if you think I'm bluffing."

_Fuck, he's upping the game… and off schedule…_

She fingered the edge of the bowl as she brought it to her lips, worried if sipping rather than drinking could earn her that cane across her wrists with bowl of warm liquid in hand. She choked and nearly spilled the whole thing when the soup burned her tongue; she managed to recover with only his jaw ticking in annoyance. By the time she emptied it, she couldn't feel her tongue at all and she'd gotten lost in her head trying to figure out this upgraded version of Walsh; forgetting the manners he enjoyed hearing entirely. He sat there for two minutes before moving to take her bowl, silent as he did so. He didn't visit her again that afternoon.

Dinner was chicken breasts and legs on a plate and the cane in his hands. Still without utensils, she ate the meat to the bones, hoping for an opening to squirrel one or two away. It would be something thicker and sturdier than the needle point of her fishbone. She remained quiet the whole meal, holding back the usual small chatter and praises on flavor that she would typically puff him up with; the idea of saying anything that might set him off with his new toy was enough to prevent words from flowing. But she still clocked the rapid fire ticking in his jaw, not exactly sure which of his rules she had broken to make him so upset. She thanked him quietly as she finished up, hoping it would be in her favor, and used the wet wipes he provided to clean the grease from her fingers as something to do. His face was hard in a way she hasn't seen on him before, suddenly demanding that her bath right then rather than at her scheduled time. He rushed as he gathered the usual supplies for her bath, that he forgot to clear the dinner; it gave Emma the chance to wiggle the longest leg bone inside a hole she had made in her pillow. (Another use her fishbone provided.) She moved quickly out of the bed and managed to reach the spot Walsh always has her stand in before her bath, mere moments before he's through the door again. He set everything up faster than normal, claiming that she had a long day with the visit and needed to go to bed early for extra rest. It was a blatant lie, but Emma wouldn't be the one to call him on it. The water wasn't nearly as warm as usual, and his movements along her body weren't taken for his pleasure, but in fast rough strokes that made most of her skin feel raw and stripped. He finished in half the time he traditionally took and moved to stand behind her for what she assumed was to gather a towel for drying her off.

_**CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!** _

Half-fallen to the floor from the impact and bracing herself on the pole in her room, Emma screeched in as much pain as surprise. Walsh had taken the bamboo cane to the back of her thighs while they were still dripping wet. The sting from each strike burned like brands etched into her skin. He stood panting behind her, and as much as she hated her brain for coming up with the thought, she knew Walsh wasn't doing so because he was winded from hitting her.

"Manners are never to be forgotten!" Another crack landed just above the backs of her knees. "I don't care what is happening around you or to you; you are not allowed to forget the most basic pleasantries. Do you understand me Emma?"

She nodded and he struck again against her exposed backside. She yelped, struggling to vocalize her affirmation. "Yes! I understand."

"Good girl."

The cane clattered to the ground and he dried her off, returning to the gentle touches and simple smiles like he flipped a light switch somewhere in his head. He tucked her in with his normal kiss to her hair. She crawled to the toilet and her legs burned with the growing welts, her muscles too bruised and her mind too stunned to withstand the weight of her own body. They screamed against the kneeling position she took as she waited for the heaving feeling of oncoming vomit to come along. But for the unknown minutes that ticked by, the sensation never came. Somewhere in Emma's head, a fragment of herself worried frantically that a new normal was setting in, that she'd become accepting of this new life now sealed by bamboo. Emma shook the thoughts away as she leaned over and made her mark for the day, not bothering to say the number out loud; something she did to help keep herself grounded. She worked to convince every part of herself that the current frame of mind was due to shock and her own stupidity in whitewashing Walsh, that she hadn't given up. She just had more reasons to get out sooner rather than later.

It was the mantra she repeated until sleep finally took over.

* * *

The next morning was more of the night before, just with daylight. Breakfast was scrambled eggs and toast and still only her hands to eat with; even the bed tray had been taken away. Since eating cleanly was impossible, there were more resulting strikes against her buttocks and thighs. It didn't take much to figure that Walsh enjoyed hitting her with the cane last night, and set her up this morning so he could do it again. Emma took comfort that this time was right away instead of after her skin had gotten soaked –not that the thought was comforting at all. Her desire to throw up returned to her as she thanked him for the discipline; manners are to always be used he had said, and if she ever wanted to get out of here, she'd say whatever he liked to keep the use of her legs. Keeping him as happy as possible so he refrained from bleeding her shifted in place as the new priority. Lunch was a blissful affair with the reappearance of her bed table, and a simple pastrami sandwich with fruit; her drink even came with a straw. Emma wasn't the type to question good fortune and as such, took this meal as a reprieve from the new methods. She still should have questioned, but the absence of his cane obscured everything else. Walsh cleared the meal away and where normally he wouldn't return until it was time for dinner, he came back with a jar in his hand, setting it down on the nightstand as he threw back the covers she was still under.

"Turn over Emma; on your stomach." When she didn't move, she felt certain he would lash out again, but he gave a soft smile that didn't belong on his face. "The jar is a salve, for your marks. I didn't break your skin, but even the smallest abrasion can cause an infection, and we don't want that. Turn over so I can apply it." She still hesitated, not wanting to push him, but not wanting a jar of strange goo rubbed into her skin either. He huffed and reached for the jar, opened it and handed it to her. "Here. Touch it, smell it, taste it… whatever you need to do. It's mostly Neosporin and Vaseline, with some additives Grandmother puts in for quicker healing."

She snatched it from his hands and the bastard laughed, taking amusement from her actions; actions she would have gotten more strikes for only just that morning. A quick sniff proved there was Neosporin within the concoction, and a dip of two fingers made them greasy and slick like either base he mentioned should do. So Emma bent a knee close to her chest and rubbed what was on her fingers to the easiest welt in reach. It stung, and the bruises didn't enjoy the attention, but it wasn't long before there was a tingle of relief of what had to be the witch's contribution. It felt cool and her skin dulled its screams to whimpers.

Walsh seized the jar back in a blink, "See Emma? I know your punishments are new to you, having been so spoiled your whole life, but I use them to make you better. But you can't be better if you break, can you? Now turn over so I can make this better too."

She'd rather do it herself and the comment of being spoiled had her wanting to throw things at his head. But anything she came up with to do or say in retaliation was stamped down; anything other than compliance would only make things worse all around. So she turned over, pushing one hand under her pillow, needing to grip the chicken bone still hidden within it. Walsh lifted her nightdress to her waist and pulled her underwear to her ankles. His touch was gentle, moving in tiny circles along her thighs and backside, working the salve into her skin. She kept her eyes closed, letting the rush of blood in her ears drown out the way his breathing changed with each new application. He covered everything that hurt, but didn't show any signs of stopping once the job had been done. His strokes lengthened, and his fingertips brushed too high on her inner legs. The chicken bone bit into her hand, and she shifted enough that he barked out a command to remain still. Emma stole her mind away to that secret place of dark waters and starless skies when the sound of a zipper falling was followed by the soft sounds of his skin slapping masturbation.

It wasn't until the room was shadowed in the early dark of the late fall afternoon that she came back to her body.

* * *

Dinner was a beef stew, with table and spoon provided. Questions began filtering through her head, frantically trying to sort out his new patterns. Was this a reward for his touching earlier? Was this temptation to placate her mind for more touching later? Should she eat what she could before making a mess and taking the cane again? Was the cane a better option than his touching? She knew he was a wolf and had more strength that what he struck her with, so why did he hold back? How far could she push him before he stopped holding back? Emma ate mindlessly as she tried to figure out what to do, which was a bad choice in itself. Her bowl was empty, and Walsh had already set up her bathing station.

He gave her a sheepish smile as he gathered her meal up, "Why don't you manage your own bathing tonight?"

He exited before she could answer, so she stripped quickly, trying to rush through the whole deal, hoping to be done before he could come back. She scrubbed too hard against her legs, and her rush came to a sudden stop with a wince and a hiss.

"Oooo, you should be more careful." Emma stilled at the unexpected voice. "I guess I should continue washing you until you learn how to be gentler with your body. But for now, since you're almost done, why don't you go ahead and finish?"

Walsh hadn't been gone long enough to get to the kitchen and back, which told Emma he had set the dishes on the rolling table used for the bathing supplies and waited until she was distracted to come back in. She felt frozen… she didn't want to put on a show and she didn't want to remain cold and wet. She _really_ didn't want another caning on wet skin. With shaking hands, she finished washing herself as she was told. She dove for the towel to dry herself off, not wanting his hands on her body and wanting whatever barriers between them she could manage. He thankfully didn't seem to mind, only rising to take it from her to exchange it for her clean clothes. He tucked her in per normal nighttime ritual, but switched from kissing her head to kissing her mouth. He tasted like copper and metal, and Emma needed him gone so she could throw up dinner in the toilet.

He enjoyed her shock, rubbing his nose to hers as he smiled again, "Tomorrow I will make you mine officially. I will make you better and after some time, you will be my mate. And you will help me make others better, when you aren't busy making our children the absolute best. We will make our own Pack. _My sweet girl…_ "

He tossed a final goodnight her way as he closed the door, and Emma struggled to bring her heart back to normal rhythms.

There had been something in her begging for release, and now Emma had no problem letting it out.

A smile curved her face.

* * *

Ruby walked the dimly lit tunnel, wishing she could laugh at the still used torches rather than any form of electricity, but the reason for walking the tunnel kept her sober. She worked to keep her footfalls even and her heartbeat steady, not wanting to add stress to an unstable situation. He should have been able to hear and smell her when she first entered the tunnel leading to him, but given his current condition, nobody could really say what Killian was capable of; only that he had become a thing you'd expect out of a possession-genre horror movie. She rounded the final corner to see he was still in his human skin, standing and swaying in a far corner, facing the wall as if he was looking out a window. His head was canted to one side, listening to something only he could hear. It was an unnerving sight at best. His tilted head craned further and in a direction it shouldn't have been able to go as she finalized her approach. (Ruby forgave Leroy for refusing to come down to the cave with the broken wolf.)

"Are we to be released yet?" His voice held an unfamiliar accent, and was barely loud enough to carry on its own.

Ruby folded her arms over her chest, deciding to use a tone she would have used any other time he wasn't using his brain properly; scary wolf be damned. "Not when you still speak of yourself in the plural. I came to see if you needed anything, even just company."

He chuckled, something much darker than she was accustomed to, letting his head resume a more natural pose. "You are always welcome –and safe– with us Rubles. We are sorry that our current manner is… upsetting… to you, but we are as we are, man and wolf inside one vessel. There are two; therefore we speak as a multiple."

"So who am I speaking with now? Man or wolf?"

He gave a half turn, a frown creasing his brow as this new idea crossed his brain. His eyes met hers, and Ruby forgave Lance for refusing to stand guard closer to the cell bars; a wolf's eyes shouldn't shift that randomly –or that frequently– between its colors. "Wolf, we suppose. The one known as 'Killian' isn't whole enough to think, let alone speak, but he is here. His memories and emotions contribute as much to our words as would the wolf's. What thoughts he does manage to form are spoken as clearly as your own."

She watched his eyes swirl a moment more, "Is he gone? The human half of you?"

The creature gave her a slow blink, turning fully to her as it considered another new idea. "You mean to ask if he is salvageable. If this spilt between man and wolf can resume as it had before. The man giving control and rational thought; the wolf giving strength and instinct. Or if he is lost to the fracture that has become us. The wolf and man both wish to return to as it was, but if it is possible… we are unsure. Currently, it is the wolf providing control, while the man gives strength. We are inside out."

Ruby nodded and dropped her eyes to the side, "And how closely do I have to abide protocol with you Wolf? I don't want to aggravate you further, nor does anyone else."

The creature took a step closer to the bars, "You? You will be as you always have been. Not above nor below, but equal and a dose of reality when we get full or ahead of ourselves."

She nodded again, keeping her eyes down, but taking his cue for a step closer to him, "And the others?"

His smile was all predator and teeth, wider than he should be able to pull off in this form. She couldn't stop the shiver that ran the length of her spine; she just hoped he wouldn't react in the manner he looked. His voice, instead, was infinitely scarier in a singsong and playful tone as he replied, "Case by case Rubles."

"Are you ok with being called Wolf?"

He paused again to consider, giving a shrug closer resembling 'Killian' than animal. Ruby mentally pumped the air with her fist at having found even a small part of him. "As good as anything if you must give us designation." His smile returned, but this one was more wistful and it cracked her heart with its normality. "She called the wolf _Zuul_."

Chancing a glimpse back to the man, Ruby moved another careful step forward, "She who?"

The creature looked at his hands, flipping them over repeatedly as if he'd just discovered their attachment to his body. "Our Would-Be-Mate. Emma."

Ruby felt like she could have swallowed her tongue, the wolf was open with information where Killian would have evaded. "She always did love Ghostbusters."

The creature regarded her again, this time with a pleased curiosity. "Aye? So does the one you know as Killian."

"What do you mean by 'would be mate' Wolf?" He spoke of it like it was a title… hell, to one so old it might be.

His swirling eyes lifted to where the bars met the stone and cement in the ceiling. "She would be ours if The Elders gave us leave. We would chase at her pace until she stopped to lay in rest. We would wait as guard and sentry until she gave invitation to her side. We would love and provide and protect until our death; following her into the next realm and the next realm as life and death bid us both. Her life is a match to the man. Her spirit is match to the wolf. We will have no other so long as she lives."

Ruby gaped, opening and closing her mouth in stunned silence. It was spoken so matter-of-factly, as if it were the only truth to the universe. So she confessed what she was told to keep from him, wanting to give what was left of his human half a glimmer of hope. "There's a ten-mile bubble northwest of here that the Fae can't even get through. They said it's like someone tried to erase that part of the world off the map. All scouting ends up with wolves wandering in circles just outside of it; completely disorientated. Regina claims the magic feels familiar, so we're going with it being Cora's doing. However, whatever Cora did, we can't push through it yet. But its likely Emma is somewhere inside that bubble."

His body contorted again at the mention of his handlers' name. " _Cora…_ " Her name was spoken in that unfamiliar accent and sounded like it originated from his stomach rather than his throat; Ruby took a step backwards before the idea even formed in her head to do so. "If luck favors the whore, then she will die. Simple and quick, as her blood flows through our gullet. Should Emma perish because of her convoluted plans, then her life will be spared. She will be ours in Emma's place. Not as mate, but as a container for our impulses. All of them, carnal and blood-filled alike, until our grief for Emma passes. After which, we care not what becomes of Cora. Or ourselves."

"I would care." Ruby winced internally, having spoken with more snap in her voice than she wanted to.

His face was somber as he looked to her. "Aye, you would. You care even now. But we have lived long Rubles, and the one you call 'Killian' had suffered plenty before he was forced to be _us_. We will endure no more. Not if we lose her."

Ruby raised her chin, "And what if Cora wasn't working alone? The whole thing doesn't connect, what does she care if Walsh is torturing girls from sea to shining sea? It doesn't benefit her directly. There's still a piece missing."

His head ducked a he stared her down from under his brows, but Ruby wasn't going giving him a backwards step this time. "You should not tempt us with endless violence. Let it end with Cora."

"And when Emma comes home? Will you care for the missing piece then?" Ruby turned heel, unwilling to deal with him talking about such things. It wasn't like him to give up the fight, nor was it like his wolf. Her plan had been to bring Killian closer to the surface, to bring him back so he can help bring Emma back. And now she was feeling more lost than he was.

"Rubles…" His voice came again before she could turn the corner and get out of sight; Ruby halting her steps out of habit. "…if she… if she's alive and accepting… if she's willing…"

His voice was an echo of the one she loved, but so broken that she had to wipe the wetness from her cheeks before taking herself back to his cell bars. "You have my permission, both of you in there. Who better for my girl than my _rodstvennik_? But that means we have to keep her safe when we get her back. That means we have to stop Cora and figure out why she's doing all this, make sure we find all the puzzle pieces."

He nodded his head, his fingers fidgeting with themselves, "And you? Are you still waiting on your Alpha?"

The old rivalry is more ground gained towards bringing him back to normal, so she indulged Killian with it. "He's coming around. I'm looking forward to making him approach Granny."

"Will you not make him approach us?"

"If he takes too long to get to it, or if he fumbles like an idiot when Granny gives him a hard time. Can't have my mate –or Alpha– acting timid. No one better than you to give him a swift kick in the ass in the right direction, even though he'd never admit to it later."

Killian hummed as his body slunk back to the corner she originally found him in. "Visit us again soon. You are soothing to us; we become _him_ more."

Ruby nodded a final time, giving him a sad smile instead of a good-bye. She pressed quick kiss to her fingertips to press them to the bars (She wouldn't dare reach through just yet), finally leaving him for the open air of the main grounds. She might be a balm, but Emma is the cure. He said it himself, there would be no other.


	25. Tools In The Right Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warnings: Chapters 22, 23, and 24 will feature (spanning throughout all three) unsolicited touch, unsolicited voyeurism, behavioral modification through violence and coercion, violence to a woman by way of damaging her flesh, exhibitionism via masturbation in front of and on an unwilling audience, forced drug use.**

**Chapter 24**

**Tools In The Right Hands**

* * *

David paced in the "War Room" (a converted dining room), hands linked behind his head and at the end of his patience. He was alone with Regina, arguing over how to proceed after they found Emma. The Council would no doubt choose _then_ to intervene, and then there would be blame to place, punishments to dole out. Legalities and procedures weren't his strong point… that belonged to Snow. He was the one to carry out the plans, to see them through… not plan "what it" scenarios. But he was Alpha, not Snow. And Snow was new to her role for the first time in almost fifty years. He couldn't ask this of her on top of everything else she was struggling to figure out. This was his burden; like so many others he was shouldering so his beloved wouldn't have to.

"Maybe if we break Walsh from her control… we could get him to testify against her to The Council."

Regina waved her hand dismissively in the air, looking upset that he would even say such a thing. "Her power doesn't work that way. She doesn't control anyone. Manipulate until she's convinced you of a new name and birth parents, yes. But not control."

David brought his hands down and rested them on the table, trying to be a gentle as he could with the subject of Cora. "But you were. Who you were before and after weren't–"

Regina cut him off again as she rose from her chair, locking eyes with him. Frustration and shame settling around her like an unwanted coat. "No David, you're not listening. I was _NEVER_ under her control. Every choice was mine to make. Every single thing I did was because I wanted to do it. All Cora did was convince me I wanted it more than anything else in the world."

David hung his head, soaking his thoughts in self-loathing, hating that he hadn't been good enough to protect Emma in his own home. "And Walsh was already a monster before meeting your mother."

Regina nodded, mouth turned down for her own reasons. "The Council would have to dismiss every death he caused as my mother's fault. Even the one's before they met up, because we don't have a clue as to when that actually happened. He would walk away from this without even a slap on the wrist. However evil Cora is, we can't let him go free."

David resumed his pacing, "So what do you suggest? Cause Emma would be pegged as both an outsider and a victim too traumatized to have an untainted testimony, and Killian will be lumped in right there with Walsh. How else do we tie her to this without getting Walsh to turn on her?"

Regina's eyes were darting back and forth in her head; the only tell on her frowning face that she was going over information only available in her brain again. "Her goal has always been power. Walsh is her tool –or one of her tools– to getting more. Directly, he gets her nothing but a pile of bodies. Which makes him a tool against someone else. Emma gets her nothing but a few packs of pissed off wolves chasing her down. Which makes Emma a tool against someone. Killian was her tool for controlling the other two, but he was a tool she had to use within limits. We need to figure out how the three of them garner my mother power, and from what source."

David paused his legs, turning slowly back to Regina. "Didn't you say that Cora might be getting help from somewhere to pull some of this off? Or that she was pulling a favor for someone? What if the three of them were part of that deal? Who would grant Cora power if she stopped doing this, or because she's doing this?"

Regina froze, eyes darting again. "Oh _hell_ no…"

* * *

The sounds coming from Killian's cell would be enough to make even the most stalwart soldier run for his mother's skirts. During his internment to the cell underground, he had been eerily calm, and now he was the farthest thing from. His first eruption of sound and rage had brought Snow and Ruby running headlong into the tunnel worried something had gotten in there with him. What they found was a half-formed wolf dragging itself along the bars –not on the ground where normalcy and gravity would put him, but half way off the ground as if he were climbing a horizontal ladder– speaking in a foreign tongue they couldn't understand. Snow sent Ruby off to find Robin, hoping that he might be able to translate, if not help contain Killian again. She spoke to him in as soft a voice she could, struggling against the primal urge to follow Killian's wolf into the maddening rush of hunting and death; needing to remain herself a little while longer. For his sake as much as her own. He stilled his horizontal climb, hushed his words, and canted his head to an angle only an owl would commend. He was staring at her with his swirling eyes of blue and white, and Snow felt fear for the first time in nearly thirty years. Wolves –especially werewolves– make plenty of their own noise, and have no fear making their presence known in the wild. The only time a wolf is silent is when prey is spotted; when a kill can easily thwarted with the smallest sound, but accomplished in very little effort of movement. Snow held her body straight and his gaze with unblinking eyes. A rookie mistake she knew better than to do, but these were her ancestor's lands, she was mate to the Alpha of the territory; this was one concession she simply couldn't give.

The seconds ticked by and the cavern felt like a pressure cooker, just waiting for one of them to flinch and the whole area to burst. And as such, Snow would very much doubt if anyone would give her grief over the very childish scream she let out when Ariel chose that moment to come from whatever ether she transported through. A heavy thud from the cell showed Killian's malformed hand struggling to regain purchase on the bars, his contorted shape partially escaping confinement in his attempt to reach whichever of them he suddenly had an appetite for. Snow shook her head in disbelief, unsure how much more disturbing he could get if they let him. But where Killian's focus had been on Snow before, it was all for Ariel now. Snow focused her attention solely on Killian, hoping that being watched would keep him in a bit of check, but the cringe of Ariel's shoulders wasn't so subtle to be missed either.

"Shit… sorry. I thought he'd still be out of it." Ariel hissed words and pained movements brought hungry whimpers from their caged friend.

Snow laid her hand on Ariel's arm, still keeping her attention to Killian. "Speak clear and soft. No moving like you're in pain, hold your arms if you have to. No dramatic movements of any kind. He shouldn't be able to get out, but let's not provoke him further to test that theory. You really pissed him off earlier didn't you?"

Ariel bit her lip, "It was necessary, though he might not see it like that. I'll fill you in later when he isn't tracking me like that."

Snow nodded. "Fair enough. What news?"

"Whatever Cora did to hide Walsh and Emma? It stopped. We know where they are. Tink is already up there making sure there aren't any magical booby traps. This is the part where we saddle up and sally forth, right? Or something like that? I don't know terms for land travel all that well."

In Snow's defense, it was the elation of finding Emma that caused her to forget Killian in general as she hugged Ariel with joy and relief; tears falling easily over her pale cheeks. She pulled away when Killian let out a second eruption with more of those god-awful sounds he'd been making for the better part the morning. Holding Ariel by the shoulders, shaking slightly in excitement, she bade the Fae to leave again and report to David and others up in the main house. Killian began thrashing in his new confinement between the open gaps, too big in his half-form to slink through. His unknown language came back to him, frantic and urgent between growls of frustration. All of which Snow was half ignoring in the minor victory they now had.

It was then that Ruby came rushing down the hall with Robin in tow, both wearing matching furrowed brows of confusion. Must have been a sight, Killian in a broken rage and howling with herself standing close by and happy for the first time in weeks. Ruby ignored the emotions in the air and dove ahead with questions regarding Killian's new spot wedged between the cell bars. Snow waved her off, hoping for a chance to make it up to her friend later. "He's fine; we had a visitor that he wasn't too fond of. Robin, can you understand anything he's saying? Or could you try talking him down? I can't even tell if he's thinking in English let alone understanding it."

Robin nodded slowly as he took in the state of his old friend. "Aye, I might." As Alpha, Robin wouldn't be able to avoid eye contact, but never let it be said that the Alpha of the North American Nomadic Pack wasn't above acting submissive for the betterment of a fellow wolf. He took a few tentative steps closer to Killian, hands out as if looking for balance on his old trained feet. Killian responded by hunching his shoulders and expanding his frame as much as possible. Robin's hands came up fluidly in surrender, "Just me old friend. Just ol' Rob." Another step closer. "You seem to have forgotten what language to speak in again. Like when we first came to The Colonies and we were trying to convince everyone you weren't a Mick so you could find work?" Killian moved his jaw, his eyes frantic once more. "No… no, no don't try English if you aren't coming by it naturally. Just repeat to me what you were trying to tell the women earlier." Killian garbled out something, hard to understand to even Robin's ears if Snow were to judge the tilt of his head. There was the briefest moment of a smile on Robin's lips, which he hid when he turned his back to Killian. A show of trust (that thankfully worked) to help further calm their friend. "He's saying something about 'feeling her' and 'needing to go'. I assume by your smile milady, you know what he's referring to?"

Snow smirked, "As if you don't."

Ruby spoke up for the first time with a huff, "Well _I_ don't. Someone care to clue me in?"

Snow was fit to burst with renewed hope, taking as much control as she could from her link to David to simply stop herself from bouncing on her feet. "Ariel was here just before you two came running down; I sent her back up to the house to inform the others. They found them! It seems the bubble that kept us from finding Emma, was also keeping Killian from using what small link they already had. And if he can feel her now, that means she's still alive."

Ruby's eyes flashed in the din, unable to stop herself from throwing her head back and howling for the hunt. Just as Snow was unable to stop herself from hugging her old friend in their joy. It was a gentle (male sounding) clearing of a throat that reminded them that the worst wasn't over, however good the news.

Ruby let go first, "Right… you're right Robin. But she's alive!" Ruby's smile was wide and infectious. "So, change's all around then?"

Killian chose then to throw his weight against the bars in a third eruption of noise, bringing a sad truth to Snow's understanding. "Not for me. I'm still too new to all of this. I guess being raised among wolves doesn't prepare you for the torrent of emotions and instincts you deal with internally. You two should go and join the others; Emma will need you both. Killian here is going to finish his change into full wolf form. When he's done and he signals me he's ready, I'll let him out. His link will take him right to Emma; all you guys have to do is keep up."

Ruby looked concerned of all things at the idea of Killian out on the loose, "Couldn't Ariel show us the way?"

Snow shook her head. "No. The less the Fae are involved now, the better when The Council gets involved later. Tink is already doing us a favor and scouting ahead for any magical traps laid out. If this is just a mistake on Cora's part, then we have precious little time. If it's intentional, then we are being played in some manner. What's more, Killian deserves to find Emma. His wolf needs it. I won't take that from him. Now go on, his change is half done already. Bring Emma home."

Ruby and Robin raced out, shedding clothes quite literally as they went, without further speaking on the matter. Snow turned back to Killian, looking more the large black beast now than the creature he had been; his eyes were still a swirling chaos though. She walked right up to the bars, lowering her face to be level with his muzzle, meeting his eyes dead on. "You hear me in there? Bring. Emma. Home. I'm not losing anyone else to that psychotic bitch."

* * *

Emma was sitting on her new scars to eat breakfast. Not that she let it show on her face, or let the pain shake her hands. There was burning and stinging flickers striking through her skin like lightning bolts, and Emma retained her face in calm serenity. Whether this pleased Walsh or angered him, Emma wasn't in the mood to care. She knew she was safe so long as she kept her manners. Walsh had revealed that much in his tactics, that he needed an excuse to beat her, needed it justified. And while it was just as easy for him to construct her failures, Emma wasn't about to give him an opening he didn't have. Her time was short now, his control slipping more now that Grandmother had given her approval. Emma needed to buy as much time as she could until he slipped enough for her to run. Although, the idea of staying and torturing him for the sheer amount of running he had already forced her to do was just as enticing as freedom. She had begun to entertain very dark and graphic thoughts of his torture in her mind when he first raised the cane to her; they kept her centered. The one with Walsh skewered from the rectum on his bamboo cane was a particular favorite. It was the same scenario playing behind her eyes as she calmly set down her fork and addressed Walsh for the first time that day. His face was made of glass and as easy to read as a child's ABC book. Obviously he was torn between the anger of her breaking the rules of no chatter during her meals, and a pleased, wistful look to her seeking him out. There was a brief consideration that maybe the wolf and man were not in collaboration like the other werewolves she had met, but at odds with each other; it was quickly discarded on the grounds that she stopped giving a fuck one way or the other.

"Walsh? I'm sorry for interrupting the course of the meal; you know I wouldn't unless it was something important or worrisome." _I swear I'm trying out for Broadway after this; these skills are too good to keep away from the public._ "It's just the leather cuff keeping me safe inside this room? It's become hard and scratchy on the edges, and my skin underneath feels tingly and itchy. Would there be a way to take a look at them during some point of the day?" _Maybe Hollywood…_

Walsh turned his head to the ankle in question, studying it as if it was a lab experiment gone sideways. "Get up, stand at the foot of the bed and hold the pole with both of your hands."

She moved as fast as she could, making sure to keep her food tray balanced and unspilled. No point in doing anything if it only meant a quick caning. Walsh knelt down next to her leg, the urge to drive her knee into his nose overwhelming, only holding back when Graham's lesson of quickened healing spun through her head again. Walsh's hands slid over the welts he gave her, and he moaned in pleasure when she couldn't stop the hissing sound of pain. Thankfully, he remained to task, unlinking the leather strap and chain from her leg. Again the urge to plow into him and run took her a minute to push down, begging her own instincts to wait for a sure escape. Emma distracted herself by checking out what damage her ankle might actually be in; running away wouldn't happen if her legs weren't in working order. She could see the skin looking wrinkled and wet, the obvious answer that the water of her sponge baths got trapped under the restraint. The scratches the strap had left were minor abrasions and nothing more. But the air passing by all for the first time in two and a half weeks was cool and comforting. A tease of freedom.

Walsh sighed, "Just as well I suppose. You're getting your mark and collar today. And I don't think I have to worry about you going for a run, not with so much ice and snow outside."

_Lie._

Emma smiled softly as she imagined shoving her thumbs into his eyes. "I hate running."

Walsh patted her calf, "Just the same my sweet girl. Still, I guess we can move up your marking to before dinner. I won't even punish you if you can't keep clean and quiet after. It can be a trying experience for one so frail." A heavy clatter sounded as the chain fell from his hand and the bile rose in her throat as he stood up behind her, letting his body brush against every inch of her that he could. He buried his nose into her hair near her neck, letting his hands rest on her waist, humming his contentment in her ear. "You're beginning to smell like me."

Emma forced herself to grip the pole harder. Chanting in her head over and over that he is werewolf, that he is stronger and faster. To play this slower and smarter, not quick and dead. Walsh walked from the room without further word, leaving her free to move about as she liked. She wants to run, needs to run. She let her feet take her as far as the open bedroom door, halting on the threshold with rapid breaths. But running through and out of a building when you don't know where the bad guys are, usually ends with you running right into one and the punishment they feel you've earned for your troubles.

_Slow and smart Emma. You have the chain off. It's one step closer._

So she climbed back into the bed to finish her food. She'd need it for the branding. She smiled as much as she was able; Killian wasn't here and he was still taking care of her. The information he had given her, the photos he had shown… it was all her ace in the hole. She knew what Walsh was willing to do to his girls; Walsh was ignorant that she was informed at all. She just wasn't sure how he planned on going about it. If he'd strap her down to make a more defined mark, or if he expected her to hold still… if he used a burning or a carving method. He would need a decent fire to get something metal hot enough, and there wasn't one in her room. Unless there was a fireplace located in the rest of the house, in which he'd have to take her out to it. There was hope in that; a living, screaming thing that demanded attention. If he took her out of the room, she'd have a chance to get out of the house. Even if he still tied her down and pushed hot metal into her skin, taking her out of her bedroom would give her a decent layout of the rest of the place. Any possible exits and blunt objects useful for causing massive head traumas would be revealed. Option after option fired off in her brain, very nearly bringing a genuine smile to her lips. A smile halted by the idea of Walsh carving his brands into his girls. That option would be more work. Though it would mean something sharp, and werewolf or not, enough damage and there's no super healing fast enough to stop dying. But she would have to distract him to get it away from him; her hits would have to be precise and extremely bloody.

_Maybe cut out his throat like a real wolf would do._

Her mind became a playground of every gore film she had seen. John Kramer and Jennifer Hills would be impressed with her ideas. A small voice whispered that either way he chose to brand her; she would still fail, only serving to piss him off. But for Emma, even that idea was welcome, enraging him so much that he killed her. In the end, she would still be free. Everyone would just have to forgive her for being impatient.

* * *

Lunch was a hamburger with oranges. Not a combination Emma would ever put together, but food was food. Halfway into the burger, Walsh stopped her gorging on red meat to place a small paper cup on her food tray, insisting she swallow the vitamins inside before she took another bite. She hesitated, not sure about ingesting unmarked pills, but then he offered to help her swallow them and Emma wasn't in the mood to find out how he would manage that one. He stood above her until he checked her mouth and judged the pills ingested; his thumb and index finger lingering on her lips for a nauseating moment too long. His voice was smug as he told her that he always takes care of his girls, especially if they made it to their Marking Day. Emma did her best to ignore his tirade of self-love, choosing to think more on everything he was making her ingest before he branded her. Sadly, red meat, vitamin C, and other such things were still unhelpful in telling Emma what method he planned on using. Immunity and blood production boosters would be good for either carving her skin or burning it. Unless one of the vitamins was something she hadn't identified properly. She'd be stupid to turn down any of it; his demented behavior was actually working in her favor for once.

She finished her food and Walsh stripped her free of all clothing, moving her to the center of the room. He made her pose in every variation of Da Vinci's _Vitruvian Man_ as he walked in circles around her. Until he stopped finally in his inspection and his fingers grazed the outside of her right thigh, declaring that it would bear his first mark.

_ Only _ _mark jackass…_

He lead her out of the room, down a small hallway with a few other doors… all shut. Briefly she wondered if anyone else was locked away like she was, finally deciding that the best thing she could do for those possibilities was to follow the escape plan as she had it –even half-baked as it was. The hallway emptied out into an open space bearing thrift store quality furniture, and only the bare minimum needed for living; couch, coffee table, TV… nothing from this side of the millennium. The room looked like it was meant to be a living room or family room with a fireplace off to the far wall, boasting a roaring fire already well underway and an iron poker laying on the hearth, its resting its head in the heat. A large metal pipe contraption stood just left of the fire; more straps hanging and a horizontal bar in the middle able to be adjusted for height. Emma would honestly be impressed if she was into that particular kink. The metal was shiny and new looking, the straps held no bends or breaks of previous use. Walsh must have just purchased –or built– the thing; just for her, just for this. But since Emma was aware he'd been all over collecting his girls, this was likely a new addition to his routine; he was evolving. And for the money he likely paid for it, it was something he planned on using frequently. Continued use meant he felt safe and able to stay in this house; he was nesting.

_And I was planning on stabbing you in the jugular with that chicken bone; we all have sacrifices to make Walsh._

As it was, with the branding iron red and ready, she wouldn't get to bleed him at all; getting burnt dog hair at best for all her troubles. She felt him watch her stare down the iron poker, easily misreading her reactions for something else entirely. It made her miss Ruby and Graham and the easy flow of conversation the three of them could fall into, like a hive mind speaking from three mouths. It made her miss Killian. With or without his heightened abilities, the man would tilt his head and read her thoughts like he was reading the morning paper. It was unnerving and freeing all at once to know that there was someone in the world she couldn't hide from. And to have that person look at her, and see just simple little Emma Swan. Not a woman to place on a pedestal, or something frail to hide away from the scary world. Not a pity case or something to toss aside when he was done. Just another being to spend time with. Or fuse his mouth to for hours on end; something she planned on encouraging when she got back home if he was still interested.

_For science…_

Walsh broke through her very pleasant mental segue (Of lip biting and hair pulling) to bring her up to his stockade. He used his body to trap her between himself and the adjustable horizontal bar, nearly bending her body over it with his crowding. His hands settled on her hips, swaying them both so she could feel how happy he was with her. His fingers pinched and pulled at bits of her skin to make her flinch and jump against him; Emma tried hard to keep the noises to a minimum, but his fingers were leaving bruises in their wake. She contemplated jabbing her elbow into his sternum just to piss him off and make him speed things up, resisting only when the idea of him pinching off a chunk of flesh floated through her head. Only after he had left the better part of her torso in a new shade of skin, he lifted her wrists to the hanging shackles one at a time. Once he was certain she was secured, he crouched behind her. A bar with cuffs of its own and about the length of her arm was wedged between her ankles, lining them up with hooks attached to tension cords at the base. He rose, standing behind her again, gently pushing down on her back to make her bend over the bar again. She couldn't see what he was doing now, but heard metal clinking and shuffling as Walsh brought down a second horizontal bar over the highest part of her lower back. There was room enough to allow a mostly upright position, but her middle was restricted from too much movement. Walsh moved in front of her, kissing her lips hastily before shoving something firm and smelling of leather in her mouth.

From here, Emma could see that the other side of the open living area held a small dining table with a door just beyond it, one that Walsh was striding through. He couldn't have been gone minute before he returned to her side just as quickly. His hands held a few things within them, none that Emma could see properly. Except the stretchy plastic of a tourniquet. Panic swept through her, she didn't want to be made high for this, nor did she want to be sedated. She'd rather have every painful memory as it was. If not to fuel her own rage, then to set fire to someone else's. For once in his pathetic existence, Walsh read her properly, taking a minute to pet her hair in efforts to calm her down. He explained the drug was just to keep her awake during and after the branding. He tied the tourniquet and loaded the syringe, smiling at her as he stuck the needle into her arm. In three blinks, her eyes began to tear up as her heart rate picked up speed. The roar of the fire became deafening as each pop it gave sounded like a gunshot. Emma could feel the blood in her veins, urging her to fly. Focusing became a problem between her eyes crying oceans and the warp speed she felt she was vibrating in.

Then it all reduced to three white points.

Flesh burning.

Walsh smiling.

Emma screaming.

There was a ringing in her ears that started low and distant; a telltale sign to her own dementia that it sounded like a wolf's howl. The drug worked, she stayed alert in spite of wanting to pass out from pain and exhaustion. Her leg was numb and on fire all at once. Sweat had broken out along her body, her muscles spasmed as waves of pain racked her. She refused to try and look at the image burned into her skin, not wanting to add vomiting to her current list of problems. Walsh's hands touched her damaged thigh and she screamed again; a sound he responded to with giggling each time she couldn't stop one from bursting from her lungs. Then he was rubbed something slick and gooey into the burn. It didn't add to her pain, but his touch was enough to make her recoil from each newly applied layer of goop. He walked away one more time, leaving Emma hanging limp in his metal stockade. She brought her dreams to the front of her brain, where she lay in Central Park or the open grass of Brookside and the brindle dog ran from grass edge to tree line in gleeful abandon, stopping to nuzzle Emma's neck from time to time. Were the chestnut dog stood stoutly at her side, watching the brindle run with a careful eye. Where the black dog lay over her legs, watching her instead. Needing them to be real, needing the comfort of her mind's creations as she heaved through the pain.

Her head was snapped back by her hair, shocking her lungs into gasping for air. Something cold and metal touched the hollow of her throat, hanging from something strapped tight around her neck. Walsh let go and pressed an open-mouthed kiss into her neck as he pushed his nose into her ear. "All mine now."

He gave a lick from jaw to temple as he released her hands from their restraints, catching her body as it went slack under its own weight. He released the horizontal bars and the piece holding her legs apart. Emma figured he would have left her at the stockade's base, but he lifted her limp body, only to let it rest on the floor near the fireplace a few feet away. The fire was still burning hot, once again playing host to the branding iron's head. Walsh picked up his chatter as if none of his abuse had transpired, clucking out his reminder that she had to eat before she got her bath; even told her she could use some beauty sleep. Emma curled into herself as much as she was able, indulging her waking fantasy of her dogs for a few more minutes. His footsteps moved to the closed door she saw earlier –to what she guessed now as the kitchen door– so he could prepare her evening meal.

He left her alone on the floor.

Unchained and near all the exits.

Emma's only thought was that Walsh assumed her mind and body too broken now to think of running. But that drug was in her blood, and her blood was begging her to fly.

Emma lifted her head to look at the fire. Next to the hearth were a set of leather gloves and a set of knit gloves. Protection against the hot metal Walsh had needed to prevent his hands from burning too. Convenient. But it meant nothing if she couldn't get her legs to function. So she grabbed the gloves and dragged herself the few feet to the dining chairs, using the spokes and seat to drag herself up. Her scarred leg wasn't entirely cooperating, but the goop and adrenaline were numbing just about everything from that hip down. She couldn't put weight on it as she would like, but it was enough to stand… maybe even hobble out of here. She used the chair to help her walk back to the fire; she donned the gloves, and lifted the iron poker. It wasn't as heavy as she had thought (another point in her favor) and its tip was still glowing red. To test it, Emma held it to one of the hanging drapes, sighing happily as it caught flame within moments. She made her way to the wall of the dining room, leaning to the side of the kitchen door that would open to her. It wasn't long before the drape was completely gone and the flames licked the wall and roof –tasting the new flavors to devour. Smoke was gathering, but still filtering mostly through the few windows this shack had to offer. On cue, Walsh exited the kitchen, attention trained on the smell of synthetic fibers burning and melting together. Not on Emma's position by the door.

Emma had believed that if she got a moment like this, she would attack with a battle cry from her stomach. Or maybe a pithy and witty comment to attack his ego one more time. But the moment was on her now and all she found herself doing was shoving that hot iron forward into his neck. Strong enough that in the surprise, it tilted his head back, driving the brand into the underside of his jaw. His hands flew up to grasp the weapon to his throat, searing and melting the flesh to the metal. She might never get the sounds he was making out of her head, or the smell from her nostrils, but she was fairly certain that finding sleep after this wasn't going to be a problem.

Emma left him writhing on the ground while she dropped the gloves to get a decent grip on the cheap dining chair; using it to aid her escape out the front door. The door itself was a blur, and unimportant in the scheme of things –another surprise for her, she figured on a big moment there too. There were blankets here and there of white powder; an early snow for the season had come at some point while Emma was locked away, but not the winter death trap Walsh had wanted her to believe. The chair had been abandoned at the inconsequential door, and Emma replaced it with a fallen branch lying just off the front walk. (If you could call it a front walk up, it was really just a section of cleared away forest debris.) There was an immediate and small clearing around the home as a buffer between it and the wild that would sniff at the windows, after that was nothing but woods surrounding it all and a barely used drive stretching out in front of her. She could bypass through the trees, but not knowing where she was on a map could mean she'd only be wandering in circles along the Canadian border for god knows how long. She could stick to what was considered the road leading up to the house and eventually hit something more substantial, but that would make it horribly easy for Walsh to catch up to her when he finally got off that floor.

Something unnatural sounded from the house behind her, and was answered by something sounding far bigger and so much angrier from the woods to her right. Her feet moved before she gave it a thought, making her way towards the bigger and scarier thing. She could put it between herself and Walsh as another delay; have them fight each other as her legs carried her farther away. Or hell, if Bigger and Scarier decided to eat her, then this nightmare would end and she'd still be sticking it to Walsh. Every step was a new pain of her branded leg screaming at her, or of a twig and rock cutting into her feet. But every step was one more away from the crazy son of a bitch that took her away from her family. She felt like complaining about the cold too as it stung her skin, but it was helping numb the existing wounds, so she let that one go; cold never bothered much before anyway.

A black shadow exploded from the tree line still fifty or so feet in front of her. For a moment Emma wondered if Bigger and Scarier might in fact be a rabid bear, but this thing is too fast, too low to the ground it covered like a demon seeking a soul to claim. It was only when the sun glinted off the silvery fur of its left paw that Emma's heart felt fit to seize and stop in her chest. A smile twitched the corners of her lips, her body ready to shut down in the safe feeling that came in his wake. It was over.

" _ **Killian!**_ " She screamed, too elated not to say his name. But his speed remained, set to barrel through her if he didn't recognize her. She stood directly in his path, too weak now to move in time to get out of his way.

Confusion over his actions didn't have a chance to really set in. Something heavy and hard landed on her from behind. She felt something crack within, sharp things slice into her, and her head bounce on the cold ground. Then there was nothing at all on top of her. The black she had wished for, the emptiness she had needed when Walsh touched her, finally crept its fingers into her brain; hiding the world from her senses to give her peace for the first time in weeks. Her ears were the last to turn off, letting the wet snarling sounds of flesh being torn echo through her. She didn't worry over it, not now that Killian was here.

Then the world was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You have no idea how tempting it is to mini-hiatus here. But I won't. Points if you know who John Kramer or Jennifer Hills are.


	26. History Repeats and We Change The Course

**Chapter 25**

**History Repeats and We Change The Course**

* * *

First, there was a soft crunching of leaves and twigs, the sound of something walking in the wilderness with practiced ease. Second, there was the stinging cold assaulting every inch of her skin, as if Jack Frost himself was leaving love bites all over her body. Last, it was the brightness of a setting sun blinding Emma's eyes through closed lids. She groaned and contorted away from the offensive light, sending new waves of pain from her legs and back. Déjà vu pricked at her skull, conversing with the panic of memories of another day all too similar. The debris of the wilderness poked at her legs, spurring her sensitive flesh into making screams tear from her throat. Something to her feet answered her with a sound low and dark, rumbling through the air like the beating of drums. Wet sounds followed; wet and crunching and fervent and tearing. Emma could hear the snuffling sound of a creature breathing through its nose, something big was being eaten by something bigger.

Emma chanced the strength of her stomach against the need of knowing what was happening around her. She had managed to maintain the rolled position on her left flank, and standing directly in her line of sight was a pack of dogs with all of their attention focused her way; their eager energy as tangible as the ground underneath her body. The chestnut and brindle of her dreams stood side by side, trying to inch their way closer; the brindle dancing on its front paws in barely held restraint. Frozen next to them was a larger golden colored dog, looking as if a mad scientist crossed a Labrador and a lion, with his matching golden eyes fixed on the big something eating away behind the curvature of her legs. There was movement in the trees she had nearly reached, creatures sliding to Emma's right through the shadows and into a flanking position. They stopped briefly, letting Emma see them; one with black and red coloring like a Rottweiler, the other a patchwork mutt design, and both far too large to be anything so remotely domestic. With a nod, the two moved back into the trees and Emma started to realize that these dogs were people she knew. Her eyes snapped back to the brindle and chestnut she knew so well from her dreams, if she had any chance of surviving, it would be with them. Emma reached out, grabbing earth, wanting to pull herself towards them. The attempt proved to be too much for the brindle who whimpered in time with Emma's movements.

Emma shouldn't have moved.

The big something (still eating the smaller something), alerted by the brindle's worry, came closer to Emma with a gurgling snarl. Emma fought to keep her breathing as even as she could, passing out wouldn't do her much good now. It moved along her body, snorting out sounds and keeping its frame low to her, the fur tickled where she still had feeling. Its body big enough to cocoon her torso and the majority of her curled legs; the soft undercoat close enough to share the collected body heat. The creature rode lower but shifted its attention to the other dogs just 100 yards off, silent and still.

"Mine" it was telling the others.

A foot landed in front of her face, silver fur darkened with new blood, and the best thing she had seen in weeks. She reached her hand and traced her finger where his two tones met, air finding her lungs in stuttered gasps. The big something staking claim over her body whipped its head down to her, blood and bits of whatever it had been eating clinging to the muzzle. She'd wretch some other time; Killian was here. She looked in his eyes, white as the melting patches of snow around them, stark against the violence left behind on his face. A voice sounded somewhere in her head about holding eye contact too long, one she ignored. He would forgive her; she had to let him know she was ok. Had to remind herself she was ok.

"Hey… what took you so long?" Her voice was thick and stuck in her throat like dry bread. He didn't make a move to show that he heard or recognized her, watching her as intensely as he had the other dogs, so she swallowed what little spit she had and tried again. "Killian? Zuul? Whichever of you is in running the show right now? Take me home and get this god forsaken baby powder smell off of me?"

A motor roared to life, pulling his attention away and his body into the low stance he had taken over her. Protecting her even as she was struggling to get him to recognize her. Not that the sound did much for her nerves either, the hand stroking the silvered leg gripped tight and her body coiled tighter under him.

"Emma! Easy Emma, its David. That was just an ATV. We have a trailer bed hooked up to it so you can lay down as we drive you out of here. I was the big gold dog you saw; Ruby and Graham are these wolves right next to me. Robin and his mate aren't too far off covering the perimeter making sure there aren't any more surprises. Tell me you can understand me."

She swallowed again, hoping she could manage more than a strangled whisper. "Yeah, I hear you. Come help me up? Walsh got to my legs this time and I think he just used me as a landing pad."

" _Nothing_ would make me happier than to get you off the cold ground and back home." The relief in his voice was nearly as palpable as Killian's leg in her hand. "But we have a problem. Killian isn't letting anyone near you, and we don't want to risk rushing him with you in the middle. You smell different and he might not know the difference fast enough."

"Killian won't hurt me no matter what I smell like. Neither will his wolf."

"That's not a gamble we want to take. We need you to come this way however you can, will get the trailer closer so it won't be far. Hopefully, Killian will only shadow you closely and nothing more than that. If he tries to stop you, do it, we don't want to push him."

Emma huffed, "And I thought _he_ was dramatic. I'm telling you, he won't hurt me."

"You _can't_ be sure of that."

"The hell I can't." Emma used her grip on his leg to regain the attention of the giant wolf over her. Stubborn man only twitched his ear in her direction as any form of acknowledgement. "Hey… look at me."

"Emma, don't use commands!"

She was losing patience fast, "He won't hurt me!"

She pulled on Killian's leg again. "Killian. Look at me…" Finally his head turned down to hers, but she wasn't there yet in his head, she was still just another wounded thing he was keeping for himself. "No. Not there, not my face. I need to you move and look at my legs. I'm hurt Killian. Walsh hurt me. I can't get up on my own, and I don't think I can walk out either." He did move, forcing her to relinquish her hold on him. His muzzle moved over her newer injuries, licking at the brand; trying to give comfort where he could. "I'm also very naked in front of everyone and its fucking cold out here. I'd really like to keep my toes and nipples after all this." He moved up her body again, his nose pushed against her skin and through her hair. "Let me up and let them help me get home. I didn't get out of _there_ just to die out _here_."

His nose was wet (she was stoutly ignoring that it was anything other than a normal wet dog nose) as it pushed through her hair at the base of her skull, until it landed behind her ear, tucked right against the shell. His leg, once again clutched in her hand, shook as he whimpered out a sound utterly pitiful. The urge to comfort him was overwhelming, the soft murmurs and shushing sounds she made automatic. He bounced away, lying flat on the ground next to her rather than over her. His head shuffling under her arm and closer to her, encouraging her to climb on his back. He stood when she had a decent grip on his scruff, and though she couldn't use him like a pony to get to the trailer, she did use him to take all of her weight. There wasn't any going forward, but off the cold hard ground was a step up. David chose then to move forward, earning something wild and angry sounding from Killian –apparently he still wasn't ok with anyone else near her.

David's hands went up, but his wolf was still in his eyes. "She can't walk Killian. Someone should carry her to the trailer if you're letting her up off the ground."

Emma gripped Killian's scruff, "Killian, let him help. I want to go home."

There had to have been a cue passed between the men that she didn't see because David was walking fast to her and Killian wasn't protesting any further, though the tension in his body was still there under her fingers. David was at her side, a hand cradling her head and another brushing the forest debris from her face. She gave him a small smile, still not sure what to do with his level of affection. David bent low, arm going under her knees, carrying her the same way Killian was so fond of. But as he lifted her, the puckered skin of her burn brushed along his clothes causing her to hiss out in pain and flinch in his arms. His own hissing echoing hers as he stopped moving entirely.

"Emma, tell him you're ok."

"What?"

David nodded behind him, "His teeth are in my leg. Tell him I'm not hurting you intentionally."

David helped her twist enough to drop a hand lower without letting her fall, one hand gripping tight to David's sweatshirt. "Killian? Hey… I'm fine. It was an accident. David isn't trying to hurt me. Let go so he can let me lay down again, and then you can help keep me covered and safe."

A nose pushed into her hand and she guided it the rest of the way to scratch behind his ears. David moved forward again, steady and easy so she wouldn't bounce against the fabric. The group had obviously thought ahead, the trailer was loaded with enough spare sweat clothes for everyone, heavy blankets for padding, and two large chests –one clearly marked as first aid. David laid her down, covering her chest as quickly as he could, but left her legs exposed to clean the brand. He said nothing as he dug through the chest big enough to contain half a pharmacy within it, bringing up a myriad of wipes and bottles and bandages. The brindle came up then, snuggling down into the blankets in front of Emma. The wolf huffed out whimpers, eager for Emma's attention. She just wished she knew who this one was, only ever have seen the dog while she was sleeping. Obviously it was somebody Killian trusted, or they wouldn't have made it near the trailer to begin with. A tongue shot out, licking Emma's face, front paws still dancing in anxious excitement.

"And which one are you? Ruby or Graham?" The question caused the wolf to settle with a dramatic huff, visibly displeased with Emma's question –which is exactly what settled the matter.

Killian eased up onto the trailer then, greeting Ruby with a nuzzle and a nip to her neck before laying down slowly behind Emma. He managed to keep the bulk of his weight off of her while still covering up as much as he could. She thought of pushing him off for all of half a second for the intimacy the position called for, but he was warm and safe and she'd deal with it later. David gave a pat to Emma's calf signaling he was done before throwing a blanket over her lower half, cuing the ATV to head on out. Ruby whimpered in front of her, nose pushing at her hands. But Emma was losing her will to stay awake now that she was with her people again.

Still Emma smiled at her friend, "I always knew I'd get you to be the little spoon someday."

Ruby answered with a yip, rolling closer. Another blanket was thrown over her legs before the gate was closed at the foot of the bed. The ATV made a wide circle, Killian's and Ruby's weight helping to keep the bumpy ride less painful. The fire she had started in the house came into full view, fully engulfing the little home without even singeing the trees. Down in front, a dark woman stood with her hands raised to the flames, with the patchwork dog sitting at her feet. When her brain supplied the word "magic" as the reason the forest wasn't going down with the house, Emma didn't balk at it like she should have. Instead she blinked at the orange glow, letting the black take her again as she snuggled between her wolves.

* * *

First, there was the blinding light of the room. Even through Emma's eyelids, the place was drenched in it. Walsh never kept the room as bright before, and the possibilities of what he had in mind that included so much made her cringe. Well, made an attempt to cringe, the restraints at her hips caused the motion to resemble an abbreviated wriggle. Second, there was the stiff and scratchy texture to the bedsheets, not the soft and frilly sets Walsh insisted on. She didn't want to open her eyes; afraid he was there waiting again. And if he was, and he'd noticed her waking, it would only be more caning if she faked sleeping.

" _It's lying Emma. Why would you want to lie to me? When I've been so good to you?"_

_Better off dead._

Emma's eyes flew open with the flood of memories. The burning of her skin, of the curtains, of his face… Killian racing in…

_God, Killian…_

Emma took in the room under labored breathing, forcing her brain into the current moment rather than getting lost in her rescue, or further back. Large open windows stretching from floor to ceiling took up and entire wall to her right, but all they offered from her position was endless clouds in the sky. She wasn't horizontal and flat on the bed, but angled upwards as much as she could be without actually being vertical. Medical machines were everywhere, hooked up to wall and to various body parts of her own, timing out a steady beep. Everything was colored in a disturbing shade of beige, though Emma thanked whatever deity had been listening to her that the walls and décor weren't done in institutional pastels. She was a little surprised there wasn't anyone sitting bedside; being alone wasn't an option she had considered. Not from Ruby or Graham, not even from Killian.

_Unless that was Killian's own blood he had been soaked in…_

Pangs of something hit Emma in her gut, very much needing to get up and find her missing… whatever he was. The tubes and wires work with the restraint over her hips and against her, making her struggle to be upright and have some general freedom of motion just more futile squirming. A loud buzzing sounds off from somewhere near her hip and Emma froze; worried she just called in God knows who with her erratic motions by way of some random button built into the bed. Moments pass and Emma breathes out in relief as she flops backwards on the bed when nothing happens, relieved that she didn't ring up for unknown company. She glared upwards as she brought her breathing back to normal, noting that the ceiling is the typical drop down panels with rust stains around the vents and water stains just about everywhere else, all colored in (surprise surprise) another variation of beige.

_At least something is normal._

She laid there dozing, not asleep, but dreaming all the same. The beige becoming a screen for her mind to play movies against. Graham and Ruby would be sitting bedside, smiling and adjusting her hair or tubes to make things more comfortable. Granny would be pacing along the walls, complaining how bland everything looks. David and Snow would at Emma's feet telling her not to worry anymore, that it was all over. Killian would be on the other side of her bed, holding her hand as his smile reached his blue eyes, talking about all the things he wants to introduce her to. Happy thoughts to keep away reality; where she was alone on a bed for the third time in as many months.

The buzzing sound returned, startling Emma from her waking dream into a yelp. A quick look reveals a blinking light above a button. Figuring it was the same she had accidentally pressed earlier; Emma pressed it again, opening the intercom to speak. "What?"

(She managed weeks of non-stop manners for someone she hated, whomever this was could call a lawyer and sue her for taking a break in them.)

But instead of the person sounding annoyed or put off by Emma's brash behavior, a chuckle filtered through. "Hello Emma. My name is Ruth. In the nightstand to your right, top drawer, is a .45 loaded with silver bullets. Why don't you pull it out and load the chamber?"

"I'm sorry… what?" Emma wasn't sure what she had been expecting the person on the other end of the intercom to say, but it certainly hadn't even been in the same hemisphere as that.

The woman's laugh came again, warm and rich, surprisingly without a trace of the mocking humor she had grown used to. "I'm a werewolf Emma. Given your recent ordeal, it was decided that a weapon of some variety placed with you might help you feel calmer and more in control of your surroundings. I was on my way in to check on you and noticed you were awake, I figured I should let you know what was entering your room and what you had available."

Emma snorted. "How thoughtful. How about you just let me out of here so I can go find my people?"

"They're here, eager to see you –some more than others. But visitors can make my job just a bit difficult, you can see them after. Now go on, grab the gun and cock it back. Don't hold it up to aim, your arm will tire out too quickly; just find a comfortable spot to shoot from the hip."

_Worth a look anyway…_

Emma leaned over as much as the restraint would allow, opening the small top drawer as directed. Sure enough, a Glock .45 lay with its clip loaded but out of the grip. For a minute, Emma believed she had never seen anything so beautiful as that gun. Still she pulled both gun and clip to her lap, thumbing out each bullet, counting as she went, and again as she replaced them. She slid the clip home into the frame, pulled the barrel and loaded her new little friend. For a minute, Emma hadn't heard anything as beautiful as those little clicks of that gun being loaded. Her smile couldn't be helped.

The voice came again, "Satisfied?"

"Sure. No idea if these bullets could actually kill you, but firing off a few rounds would be fun after the last few weeks I've had.

The woman laughed again, "Perfectly understandable. I'm coming in now."

The door buzzed and clicked as locks pulled away, making Emma frown again. Contained to a bed is one thing, locked inside a room is another. The woman came through, dressed in traditional gray scrubs, and carrying the old black bag doctor's would haul from house to house. The woman herself was non-descript, neither ugly nor beautiful in her face, her features too common to be pegged to one nationality or another. Her smile though, that was where she held out her power. It was warm and inclusive; never fading as the woman moved around the bed to Emma's right and landed the bag with a thump next to Emma's legs. Emma had taken the woman's advice, positioning the gun near her hip with the grip resting on the bed. She wondered about a person who had a gun trained on them –even this poorly– and didn't seem to care.

With a quick flick of her fingers, the woman calling herself Ruth opened the bag and dumped its contents all over Emma's legs. "Go on," she urged, "Take a moment to shuffle through everything I brought in with me."

But Emma's eyes, nor her new gun, weren't planning on deviating from the new person. "You said you were wolf, you don't need anything in that bag –or in this room– to hurt me. You're weapon enough."

The woman's eyes glinted and something very smug crossed her face. "Very good. However, you aren't as well equipped as I am even with that gun. Every new tool that you might have access to should always be considered even if it's in the possession of the enemy."

Emma smiled in return, "Sure, but I'm hooked up to some tubes pumping who knows what into my system. As far as I know, I can't even use my legs to get off this bed let alone out of this room –or building for that matter. The tools you brought would only piss you off with the surface damage."

Ruth's smug grin threatened to turn into a very real smile. "So tell me, if I can overpower you so easily, and your escape isn't guaranteed, how do you trust me not to kill you right now?"

"I don't. But if you wanted me dead, I would be. Monitoring my condition implies that you at last want to keep me for something, and I can play that until an opportunity arrives. Which it will if I'm not in friendly territory. If nothing else, I can fire off everything in this gun and piss off your wolf enough so you kill me quickly. I'm sure my next of kin will be grateful for it."

Ruth's eyes glittered with a familiar golden color, her smile finally breaking all the way through and beaming down at Emma. "Well my dear child, I'm not here to hurt you. No one is. Quite opposite in fact." She began gathering up the scattered things, mindlessly tossing them back in the bag before her hand paused in the air. "Emma… may I have the scalpel back please?"

Emma clenched her jaw, shaking her head in the negative. The woman had offered it up after all.

"I see. It's ok. Quick and quiet hands, I hadn't noticed you taking it at all. Practice that skill child, especially around your wolves. You never know when it'll help you." She reached into her front pocket, pulling out a penlight and blinding Emma with it. "Now when David found you, you were outside and naked. Do you remember how you got to that point?"

"Yes. I do."

Ruth waited for Emma to elaborate, but all Emma gave her was another stare down. Killian's voice reminding her about dominance somewhere in the back of her head once again, but Emma stopped giving a shit. As easily as the woman seemed to smile, her mouth turned down into a frown. Emma wasn't pleasing and Emma didn't care. Ruth's head tilted to the side, still waiting. It wasn't helping the electricity zipping up and down Emma's spine, the need to start slashing her way out of the bed and back into the open fields of endless sky clouding her vision.

Ruth leaned over side rail just enough to press the intercom button, "Lin? Why don't you bring David in here and give me a hand with these final tests?"

The mention of David's name helped fight back the fog filtering in Emma's head. As did the sound of the heavy door nearly coming off its hinges once the locks disengaged, David plowing through and rushing to Emma's side with a kiss to her forehead and a hand to cradle her skull. Still odd and unsettling in its own right, but Emma would take it a thousand times over just to erase one minute with Walsh. He didn't stop moving his free hand over her arms and legs, nor his eyes from looking over her from head to toe. She let him; nothing in his manner spoke of romantic intentions or sexual drives, just a basic need to make sure she was alright. A huge relief from what she had endured.

His eyes came to hers finally, his normal sky blue twinkling as he frowned in confusion. "You ok? What's wrong? Why does she need help?"

Emma waved her gun in the general direction of Ruth, "There is a lady I don't know asking me questions. I haven't had coffee in weeks. I'm stuck in a bed… _again_. The door that leads out has automatic locks. And my legs don't feel right. Take your pick David."

Ruth chuckled as she wandered to the far corner of the room to converse with the male nurse that had followed David in. David perched on the edge of the bed with his own amused smile. "That woman is Ruth, a very trusted wolf; you don't have to worry about her. I'm sorry you're caffeine deprived, but it stays that way until we know you're cleared medically to have some again. None of us wanted to strap you down after your time with Walsh. Graham let us in on how he treats his victims, and doing _anything_ similar wasn't something we wanted to push on you. But you weren't healthy, and Ruby mentioned how bad the nightmares were from the first attack. We didn't want to risk you injuring yourself while you were out of it. We'd rather have you angry about being strapped down than have you hurt more. The door locks from the outside only; keeps any potential idiots out, but you're still able to get out if you need to. Your legs feel weird because Walsh did some serious bruising to them, so we have you on some decent pain meds. Did I miss anything?"

Emma nodded as he spoke, thankful for direct answers since this mess began. So she pressed for one more. "Where's Killian?"

David's face fell, "We really should get you checked out before we bring you up to speed…"

_So much for direct answers…_

Emma felt that fogginess return and the gun that was aimed at Ruth turned to point at David. "Where. Is. Killian? I remember him being wrong when you guys showed up. I want to see him, I can help."

David eyed the gun, then her, heaving a heavy sigh. "No, he wasn't ok. You disappearing and the capture took a toll on him. The Council has taken him for evaluation and questioning regarding his involvement. We only know the basics right now, I can't give you details I don't have… it's still early in the proceedings…"

"Proceedings? Why–"

Ruth chose that moment to rejoin the conversation and Emma's bedside. "A wolf as broken as he was needs to be evaluated to see if he can get back to normal. Risking an unstable wolf out on his own, even in a pack, can be dangerous. The rest, well that's a whole bunch of legalities regarding the case of Walsh Singe. He might need your help getting his buns out of that burner Emma, so let me check you over, get you cleared. Then you can rush in to his rescue."

Emma looked back to David; he gave her arm a squeeze with a nod. "Fine, David stays and I'll answer anything you like."

Ruth's smile returned then, "When David found you, you were outside and naked. Do you remember how you got to there?"

Emma nodded, "Walsh strung me up from some kinky pipe setup, used a hot iron to brand my leg, let me down in front of the fire to go make dinner, talking the whole time."

"He didn't chain you back up or restrain you in any way?"

"No, I don't know why exactly. But I'm going to assume he thought the branding and caning had wounded me enough that escape wasn't possible. Or he thought that he had broken me with the nightly bathing having advanced into intimate touches. For my own safety, I was compliant as I could be and just that morning had remained in the house when he un-cuffed my leg. I stress the words 'Compliant for my own safety'. I was in no way willing. And until I knew the layout of the house, or if there were others there too, I wasn't going to make a break for it and screw things up."

David was emitting a low rumbling sound from somewhere deep in his chest, and a quick look showed his eyes had burned into a molten gold.

"Boy, if you can't handle this, I will remove you." Ruth's tone was that of a parent more than a superior. Still worked as David's growling stopped; his eyes remained.

Emma did probably the stupidest thing to a wolf to date, and booped him right on the tip of his nose. Sure he looked good and scary, downright intimidating. Emma just didn't get the fight or flight response around him. "He's fine, not like he's scaring anyone."

(She would never know how many times his heart broke apart and rebuilt itself in that moment.)

Ruth snickered, "No, I suppose he isn't. Continue then, Walsh got cocky and left you on the floor unbound."

Emma hummed. "I struggled up on my feet while he was chattering on, crawled my way to a dining chair and used that to get up. I grabbed the gloves he had used for the hot iron, set the iron to the drapes –which went up really fast– stood next to the kitchen door and waited for him to come out. When he did, I pushed the hot part into his face and neck area, idiot reached up and grabbed the iron, melting the skin on his hands to it. I hobbled my way out the front door."

Ruth had shifted through taking vitals as Emma spoke, raising an eyebrow at every other point. "Walked? Your legs couldn't withstand the weight of your own clothes right now and David told us that you couldn't get off the ground when they got there. How did you manage to _walk_ out of there?"

Emma shrugged, "Well when David got there, I had become a landing pad for a pissed off Walsh after the damage to my legs. Before that it was all adrenaline. Literally. He had given me a shot of something right before he branded me, said he wanted me awake for it."

The male nurse took a few steps forward, "There were traces of Norepinephrine in her system when we ran the Tox Screen. Wasn't much by the time she got here, her body had burned through most of it by then, but it would back her claim."

Ruth nodded, seemingly satisfied with it. "You mentioned being worried about running into other people in the house. Had you seen anybody there besides Walsh?"

Emma shook her head. "No, not since Grandmother left earlier in the week."

David tensed at her side and Ruth grew very still, "Granny was there?"

"What? No! Not Granny. If Granny had been there, he would have been dead that first hour and I would have missed all the fun of burning flesh. No, this lady insisted on being called Grandmother by both Walsh and myself. Prim and proper type, even dressed in the corset and bustle get up."

Ruth's eyes flickered, but showed nothing else by way of interest. "Something to look into then."

Emma continued on, "Walsh sought her approval on everything he did. Even what he did to me. Those first two weeks were forcing specific manners on me because she didn't like the ones I had. If he had been working alone, I might not be alive right now; he escalated rapidly as soon as she was satisfied. He delayed his gratification to please her."

Ruth shifted in place, "Could it be possible she was helping you? Buying you time for someone to rescue you?"

Emma shook her head again. "Doesn't track. She was happy to see me there. Like I said, Walsh was out to please that woman. If she had told him to let me go, he would have with a full parade of seventy-six trombones."

David squeezed Emma's arm again, "We should do the rest now."

Emma looked at him, "Rest of what?"

Ruth answered for him, "Well, physically you're ok other than the obvious damage. And that stuff will heal; no funny long-term limping or any such thing. But we need to test for other things. Magic, Fae influence… anything medicine can't see."

"So get on it."

Ruth smiled at her, "I don't have those abilities. They'll have to be done by a witch; will you be ok with that?"

"If David stays."

Ruth nodded. "That's just fine. I suspect I wouldn't be able to remove him now that he's in here anyway. I'll leave after care instructions and your prescriptions for pain at the main desk. David? I expect to see you there tonight. And take care of this girl, _don't_ go losing her again."

David stared the woman down, an unspoken conversation passing in front of Emma. Somehow (and Emma planned to press for just how), Ruth won out. David dropped his eyes and tilted his head. "Yes Mother."

Emma's jaw dropped and ready to ask the obvious question, but the woman was gone out the door before words had properly formed. It might be why he had relented, but this posed a whole new set of questions. She shot a look to David, hoping he would simply fill in the blanks, but the nurse that had been playing wallflower this whole time chose to finally step to the bed. Lean in his scrubs, his steps careful as he approached Emma's right. His brows knitted in concern and his hands holding each other as if he was afraid to reach out and touch. But when those dark eyes met Emma's, there was a wave of calm that swept through her. His lips quirked to one side as Emma's shoulders slacked for the first time since the dance at Brookside, letting go of the weight they carried under the mantle of nothing wrong. Killian was the only other one she had such a similar reaction to.

Which was the idea that put her shoulders back and her spine straight. She was not willing to have these reactions to unknown people.

He must have seen her shoulders do their little dance because his hands came up in surrender. "Easy Emma. I'm just here to make sure there isn't any magical hocus pocus done to you. And if there is, I'm here to make it go away. You can call me Lin."

Emma eyed him, the gun still in hand turning slightly his way. "I can. I can also call you by your real name."

He smirked and Emma hated how much of Killian she saw in it. "Names have power, especially for those in our world that are very old. Like your Killian, he is sometimes addressed as 'The Captain'… and for a time, a more colorful moniker."

Emma wasn't buying it. His secrets were too easy to see, even if she didn't know what she was looking at. "After the time I've had, I'm not in the mood to play the name game with a guy that rides a broomstick to work."

Lin smiled wider, "No, I suppose not. Problem is that I've collected many names in my time. And I've lived long enough that more than a few have garnered their own pull, so I'm afraid that 'Lin' is the best I can give you for now."

Emma spun her head back to David, "Who is this guy? Did I wake up in another realm or something?"

Lin answered first with a bounce on the balls of his feet. "Well this is Chicago."

"I'm _where_?"

David tugged her arm, "We're in Chicago. It's been two days since we found you. We kept you under at first to give you a good once over and make sure nothing was horribly wrong or broken, and then long enough so that you'd sleep through the travel here. But the last thirty-six hours or so was just you sleeping on your own. Had us worried you weren't planning on waking up. Walsh is dead and the house burned to the ground. You are set to stand trial to prove that it was a life and death situation, that your actions and those taken by us for your sake were justified. Should be easy enough to prove with everything we have."

Emma breathed through her nose, already unhappy with the coming answer. "And Killian?"

David sighed, "That's where it gets complicated, and better left for when you are better." She raised her eyebrows and he crumbled. "His handler is testifying a different story than his. The Council has said there never was a capture order on Walsh, that he should have been killed on sight the first time Killian came across him. Her reports reflect this, but Killian's don't. Her reports also don't show anything about you other than Walsh's most recent victim. The Council only knows as much as they do about you because I make my reports to Ruth, who is our Council representative."

Emma blanked a bit. "They can just look at his paperwork then. He had boxes of stuff… photos, credit reports, M.E. reports. He showed me all of it so if I got caught, I would know what to expect from Walsh."

David nodded. "That's the problem. It's a colossal game of 'He-Said-She-Said'."

Emma shifted in place, "So what do we do?"

David gripped her arm, " _We_ do nothing. Graham, Ruby, and I are all set to testify on his behalf. Granny even offered up her testimony should The Council want it. _You_ need to heal, your life after the trial will be hectic enough."

"Like hell! I–"

David hissed when she jerked away from his touch, a red line of blood now drawn on his arm and her stolen scalpel coming out of its hiding spot. "We all figured you would want to be up there for him. But The Council decided against it. I'm sorry Emma, but the choice has been made."

She glared at him. "Nightingale Syndrome? Really?"

David winced again, "More like Stockholm."

She held up her shiny new gun, "If I shoot them with this, will it work the way I want it to?" The quiet nurse named Lin decided she was funny and laughed. Emma almost shot him for it just on principle.

David seemed to find it amusing too as a grin fought its way over his mouth. "Not all of them, no."

"I have to be there, even if I have to sit silent in a corner. It'll help him if he knows I'm there and I'm ok."

Lin the nurse turned to her, brows furrowed in more than just general curiosity. "If I might ask, why would it help him to know you're there?"

She blinked at him, not sure why he needed to know, but followed her gut to tell him anyway. "He's calmer when I'm around. When he found me, he was out of it, like only half of him was there at a time. If that is what he was like because I was missing, then not knowing how I am after will make him unfit for a trial. And I'm taking a wild guess here, but I'm going to assume that this Council won't give a flying squat about _that_ particular detail. His best chance is if I'm there."

Lin tilted his head, "And that's the only reason; to keep him calm and level headed?"

"Not that it's really any of your business," His mouth quirked again, and she missed Killian more for it. "He came for me; he didn't abandon me. So I don't plan on doing that to him. Even if I can't say anything on his behalf or actively help in any way, he needs to see that I'm ok and on his side. I owe him at least that."

Lin shook his head, "It doesn't sound like you owe him anything at all. It sounded like you got yourself out of that house and he only rushed in after."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Seriously, why do you care?"

Lin ducked his head and began fiddling with his magic items with a slight shrug. "Just curious. Thought that I could help with perspective; outside opinion and all. From what I overheard, you only got caught because of a weak link in the guard duties, and when you saw an opportunity, you escaped captivity. Don't really see how you owe him in any of that."

"Killian went over the case files with me, in case the worst happened. What habits manifest when, motives, possible triggers… if he hadn't given me that information, I wouldn't have survived those weeks with Walsh. _There_ , he saved my ass. And when he rushed in after I got myself out? It was because I had only damaged Walsh and pissed him off. Killian killed the bastard and saved me again from being chow."

Lin hummed; suddenly clearing up bits and pieces that did lord knows what. "You're all clear. Nothing done to you other than Granny's healing trinket she used on your first attack. Still working in fact, though on its last resources; I refueled it so you might feel better sooner than you normally should."

Emma dropped the gun and grabbed his arm as he moved to leave. "You're not just some nurse are you?"

He gave her hands a pat and threw her a cheeky smile. "Are any of us 'just' anything? Rest Emma, heal." His face was serious once again when he moved through the door.

David was eyeing it as much as she was, muscles bunching with what Emma was identifying as a protective flinch. "I get the feeling that all of that was more than just a test for bad juju."

Emma shook her head, trying to clear the reactions nurse Lin drew from her. "I need to be in there David. It's his best chance."

He looked back to her, eyes sad and face grim. "We'll see what we can do. We aren't sacrificing him, not after everything he's done. But we can't go in guns blazing either. Be patient?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I could have ended with Emma's rescue. Left all y'all to assume everyone lived happily ever after. But the shit storm doesn't end because the bad guy is caught or the person rescued. There's always a fallout. Which is the phase we enter now. Robin and OQ live strong in my world, and we haven't seen the last of them. For the record: the healing trinket Granny had used in the beginning was surgically placed within Emma's back to help heal her faster. As it was never removed, its been the thing helping her endure the amount of pain she would have been subjected to.


	27. The Council Will See You Now

**Chapter 26**

**The Council Will See You Now**

* * *

It was explained to Emma, that The Council would be what she would see as a mishmash of tribal elders, the Senate, and the Supreme Court. The basic idea being that each representative either spoke for only their own kind –like Ruth did for the wolves– or they could represent several groups of smaller numbers. If the group were large –like the Fae– they would have more than one representative called to task representing smaller subgroups. These Councilmembers weren't necessarily the leaders of their respective groups –if such positions even existed– but through them, peace amongst each other is maintained, and their secrets kept from the humans. Emma was also heavily warned against assuming these members were only as powerful as the influence they held, and not for their own abilities; they had to achieve the position of Councilmember somehow, a task not always achieved by noble means. When the time came for Emma to go before them, her mind was in overdrive fueled by everything she had already been through and these new words of caution. Images of a dark cave lit only with torches, hooded figures standing at raised podiums, and herself standing center stage on a sunken dais to be judged from were all she could mentally picture for her impending trial; especially since it was being held through the night. Nobody was more surprised than her at the disappointment that came when those images turned out to be nothing but flights of fancy. In fact, the trial and its setting were possibly the most normal things she'd been a part of since this whole mess started. Flanked by David and Graham, Emma was escorted down a very normal corporate hallway and into a very normal council chamber room. At the opposite end of where they entered was the elongated desk slightly curved into a half circle, two large flat tables –seating three to four chairs– stood at each end of the arc, then dead center between the larger tables and facing off squarely with the center chair of the arc sat a smaller table –seating only one. There was audience seating taking up the rest of the room, but Emma was assured that for her trial it would remain empty.

Graham leaned over and spoke low, "Just remember, no eye contact to any of them. If they don't see it as a challenge and get offended, it's a good chance they can use the opportunity to ensnare you. There will be counsel present to speak for Walsh, but that's mostly a formality, no eye contact there either."

Emma nodded, "Will they cross-examine?"

"They might, depends on who they chose for the role. But Walsh was already under a kill order Emma; I wouldn't worry about it."

David leaned in on her other side, pointing to a blank wall. "The Council will enter from over there through a hidden door; eight of them. Graham and I will present testimony on your behalf and then the opposing counsel will have a turn. Your personal accounting will follow, and if the counsel chooses to, they might ask you a few questions to redirect. The panel of Council representatives has the choice of passing judgement or continuing the questioning themselves at that point. It'll be put to a vote what to do with you twice, first if you should be executed, and if not, what to do with you."

"What about getting me into Killian's trial, even just to sit in the back?"

David gave her a soft smile, "I don't know yet. I brought it up to a few Councilmembers, but none of them gave me a direct answer. We'll just have to see."

The main doors opened behind her a second before a wave of warmth hit Emma's back. And before she had a chance to turn in her chair to see who was entering, Emma was engulfed in a fierce hug and a soft cheek on her forehead.

"Ruby! Let the girl breathe!" Though his voice was firm, Graham was obviously trying hard not to chuckle. "You'll have plenty of time to smother her after the trial."

Ruby let out a soft growl, and Graham lost his struggle by letting out a healthy laugh.

"How touching… though I wouldn't think a trial room as an appropriate place for familial frolicking. But then I guess one couldn't expect civilized behavior from dogs."

The four of them turned to the snide voice, Graham and Ruby becoming a living wall between Emma and the person before she could even get a look at him. David stood behind her, his hand giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. His voice strained under his forced diplomacy. "Gold. Surprised to see you here…"

The disembodied voice sighed, "I'm sure you are. You three can stop hiding her, I am going to have to see her during the proceedings, might as well get the introductions over with now."

Ruby moved in tighter to Graham just as the hidden door opened and people filed through. Once again, Emma was let down when not one appeared clothed in a scary hooded robe. The first came all the way around the arc to sit down in the chair closest to Emma. He was an abnormally large man; not just in girth, but in height. His long curly hair pulled back tight in a neat ponytail, looking as uncomfortable in his suit as Emma felt in hers. (The need to call out the name Hagrid was a hard urge to stifle) Following him was his polar opposite, an extremely slight woman with wide eyes and full of anxious energy. Lin the nurse was next and Emma fought the need to gasp and point, though he gave her a tight-lipped smile and small wave to acknowledge her curiosity. Ruth followed him, brisk in her steps and a warm smile to everyone at Emma's table. Another tiny woman with a severe bun and a high collar neckline came in, face impassive and full of the judgement Emma thought only nuns were capable of. A riot of orange hair and round eyeglasses over a gentle face took his place beside the intimidating nun lady. (Emma wanted to point and tell Ruby and Graham he was a Potter-Weasley love child.) A tall woman, as slight as the first but with her bone structure protruding from her frame in harsh angles sauntered in. Red lipstick glaring against her pale skin in a sneer of boredom. The last was a boy, no more than sixteen. A mop of curly brown hair, ears that stood out from his head and a smile that promised the Devil in every way people are taught to fear. He looked to Emma and she swore the lights flickered and the shadows deepened. Graham leaned forward, breaking the eye line; a quiet reminder to her that eye contact was not something to do here.

It was the high-collared nun woman that spoke first, "Counsel for the deceased?"

The man that had been so eager to see Emma stood up on her left. He wasn't very tall, and his hair hung limp in paling shades of brown and gray. He used a cane, though Emma doubted he had much real use for it other than deception and a convenient weapon. He turned enough to catch Emma's eyes, showing her that _his_ were far from human. A pointed nose and chin, a wide smile full of teeth; all predator. The kind that ate because the food was available, not because it was hungry. Graham moved again, this time elbowing her in the side before the man answered the question. "At the ready Madam Chair."

The woman spoke again, "Representatives for the human?"

Graham stood, still blocking the reptilian man's gaze, followed by both David and Ruby. At once, they all replied, "At the ready Madam Chair."

The woman from the panel looked up. "Miss Lucas? There is no cause for you to be here, nor do you hold any territory to weigh in as a representative."

In a tone Emma had heard only when she had truly screwed up in the diner, Ruby responded to the tiny nun woman. "With all due respect Madam Chair, Councilmembers, I am here on behalf of Granny and the Free-Zone of New York City. I am here as First Wolf of Emma Swan, the human seated. I am here _at the ready_ , to speak of her time with Granny and myself prior to her involvement in this case and living among our kind in safety –both hers and ours. Should The Council wish to take those years into judgement, of course."

Emma watched as Ruth smiled approvingly, and the rest shared varieties of hidden grins or plain shock to Ruby's candid response. All except the nun woman, who maintained her expressionless face.

"So noted. Miss Swan, if you'll stand please." Emma stood, keeping her gaze between the shoulders of nun lady and Ruth. "This trial is first to determine your responsibility to the death of one Walsh Singe. Second, to determine your threat against our world. And third, to determine what should be done with you should you be found exempt and benign. This panel acknowledges that your initial involvement to our world, and the resulting death of Mr. Singe, were out of your control and therefore are guilt free on those specific counts. You will not be held responsible for those accusations here or in future courts. Do you understand so far?"

Emma cleared her throat, "I'm being tried not for the murder, but for being an accessory?"

The young boy at the end leaned forward. His eyes were far from kind and almost leering at her, "To see how much you drove these wolves from the written Law. If you really were just an innocent girl, or if you manipulated them into thinking so. So many Alpha's rallying their pack's around you rather than alerting this Council to the chaos happening. You got them to play against the rules, sounds very much like the start of a _coup d'état_ …"

Emma felt herself shift to argue, child or not, but there was a quick tug to her hair from behind. _Right…_ "I see. Yes, Madam Chair. I understand."

The nun woman nodded. "Very well then. At this time we wish to extend to you the gratitude of keeping our secrets thus far. Let it be noted that during what would be a trying time for any creature, Miss Swan refrained from exposing any of the many secrets she fell prey to. And as such, during this trial should anything become hard to understand, you will be granted a momentary reprieve to clarify with your established representatives."

Emma nodded once more, "Yes Madam Chair."

"Would any of this panel like to weigh in before we start?"

The redheaded man to the nun lady's right leaned forward, "I would propose that given the very recent nature of Walsh's crimes to this human, that she be allowed to call recess from the proceedings should they become too intense to continue. Her testimony can't be taken under duress."

Ruth leaned forward, "Seconded."

Nun lady nodded, "So say all?" All but the pale woman and the young boy rang in. "Passed, with the understanding that this privilege is not to be abused. Miss Swan, do you understand?"

"Yes Madam Chair."

"Then retake your seat and let us start."

Emma sat back down as Graham was called to the small center table first. Emma could feel the eyes of the opposing counsel eroding holes into the side of her head without her friend to block the view. Graham accounted for Emma's sustained injuries with photos taken during her first day unconscious; something she hadn't been privy to as Emma only saw the injuries after she had been cleaned and patched up. He went over –in detail– the cost his Pack and companies accrued to first keep Emma Swan in the dark and then later as Emma was forced into knowing by the increased pressure of Walsh Singe. He even went as far as to include the bills racked up to accommodate the needs and demands of The Council's agent on task. All over secrets that would still have been kept had Walsh Singe moved on to another victim per his _modus operandi_. He then covered the general loss of agency to her own life to keep their secrets, revealing the extreme measures she was bound by Law to learn and use should she ever returned to her usual employment. The Council thanked Graham for his testimony and called David to the seat. David recounted all the proper protocols Killian had initiated to allow himself and Emma into Brookside territory, complete with formal introduction of Emma Swan. David stressed this behavior was critical to both trials due to previous documented instances where Killian Jones had been notorious for simply showing up to his farmhouse and responding to each summon to Brookside with a "Bugger off". David informed the panel that the original idea was for Killian and Emma to hole up at the farmhouse and only call on the Brookside Pack for backup if needed. Given the already initiated gathering of two packs at Brookside for multiple celebrations, an invitation was extended to both Killian and Emma to attend and remain through the night for safety. He explained Emma's behavior when presented to the packs with a bit more fervor and pride than Emma would have expected, but she was willing to allow whatever positive images she could get from this. He explained that while she had become overwhelmed in meeting some iconic names –both Fae and wolf– she still stood tall in a room of strangers after. David took a sip of water at this juncture, his shoulders taking on a slight tightness as he spoke on the more serious offense of the following morning. He declared that Emma being taken from his territory would make the use of his pack well within written law to pursue, but the fact that it had been done within the property lines of his own home made it a challenge to his status as Alpha, and as such would give him the rights to Walsh's death.

There was a strong murmur among the Councilmembers then, causing Emma to grab for Graham's wrist. He held up his hand to signal for a moment with her while Ruby leaned forward to listen in.

Graham slanted in close to her head so he could keep his voice as low as possible, "What is it Emma?"

She took his lead and kept her voice down and close to his shoulder, "That made a dent, why?"

Graham sucked in a breath. "Someday Emma, don't be so observant."

"How, exactly, was I to miss a reaction like that?"

Ruby chimed in, "He meant that you shouldn't have noticed they were reacting to David's comment over just general discussion."

Graham continued, "It takes Walsh's death off both you _and_ Killian. It makes it legal regardless of everything else."

"So then Killian gets to go free?"

Ruby shook her head, "Not exactly. He still stands accused of being an accomplice, if not the person behind and driving Walsh. But it takes Walsh's death off the table, Killian's punishment would be reduced to rehabilitation if he's found guilty."

"And me? What does this do for me?"

Graham spoke up again, "If the panel agrees, then this becomes merely a debate on if you can be trusted."

"Are you serious?"

"If you three are finished canoodling, I'd very much like to finish these trials _before_ the sun rises. Unless of course, Humbert dear, you'd like to come on over here and canoodle with Mummy as her personal lap dog?"

Their heads snapped up to the gaunt woman seated down towards the leering teenager, both of whom looked more than bored at this point. Graham cleared his throat, "Apologies, clarification provided."

Nun lady was glaring at David, "The Law must be obeyed. We will deliberate this along with Miss Swan's case. I'd advise you Alpha Nolan, not to surprise this panel again. In this or any _other_ trials."

David bowed his head. "Understood Madam Chair."

"You are dismissed then, Alpha Nolan. Gold, you have the choice of delaying your questions until after Miss Swan's accounting or proceeding now."

The man stood, "I have a few questions now Madam Chair, If I may?" The woman nodded and he glided his way in front of their table. "Alpha Humbert, can you account for every moment Killian Jones was in yours, or any other territory of New York?"

Graham cleared his throat, "I did not maintain eyes on him during his stay, and I cannot speak for the other Alpha's of New York City."

"You didn't keep tabs on a Lone Wolf in your territory?"

"He wasn't only in my territory, and he was officially staying with Granny in the Free-Zone. There wouldn't be a justification."

"I was under the impression you viewed Miss Swan as family, you wouldn't consider protecting your own as a justification?"

"Both myself, and my wolf consider Miss Swan to be family and informal Pack. However, I trust Granny and Ruby Lucas to keep her safe when I am unavailable to do so. I also trust the judgement of The Council when they pick agents to police our kind. So no, I wouldn't see monitoring Killian Jones during a time when a mad wolf is running loose as a justifiable expense of personnel and finances."

The man hummed. "I suppose you're right. It's not worth the cost to verify if Mr. Jones was even telling the truth to start with."

Emma felt Graham coil next to her, while the warmth that had arrived with Ruby began to burn. Emma had been called to court enough times to know what this man was attempting to do. There was enough on Walsh, and most of it irrefutable, so Gold was trying to force Killian into shouldering some of it by casting enough doubt onto his character. Emma felt her own blood run a cold path through her hands, fingers flexing with the need for sudden violence.

"Alpha Nolan, would you agree that the change in Mr. Jones' behavior oddly mirrors that of Mr. Singe's?" The man called Gold continued.

"I can't say, as I never had a chance to interact with Mr. Singe."

"Of course. Then would you agree that Mr. Jones changing his behavior regarding protocol was odd?"

"Not considering the circumstances."

"I'm sorry, what circumstances would those be? The fact that he had Miss Swan in tow, or the fact he was delaying what he declared was a kill order from the very Council that sits here?"

"The circumstance that he was trying to save a life while fulfilling his duties to The Council."

"And you don't find it at all circumspect that after only one night, in _your_ own home and in _your_ words, that Miss Swan was taken? A Pack House with two packs under its roof, a Lone Wolf supposedly bent on keeping her alive, and two visiting Fae?"

"What I find circumspect isn't important to this trial."

"Are you telling this panel what's important to this trial?"

"Not at all… I'm telling _you_."

Madam Chair interrupted, "That will be quite enough Gold. If you'll retake you seat so we may continue?"

"If I may Madam Chair, I'd like to ask a few more questions to the Alphas before Miss Swan's testimony colors your perception of their actions."

If Emma thought the nun lady looked severe before, she was sorely mistaken given the look she laid down on Mr. Gold. "Are you suggesting that this panel is incapable of an objective decision?"

The man sneered, "Of course not."

The woman continued, "Then I advise you to retake your chair. Miss Swan? At this time you are asked to provide your testimony, if you would like a brief recess, now would be the time to ask for it."

Emma took a moment. Nothing would be nicer right now than to run to the bathroom and breathe. To dab cold water to the back of her neck and let Ruby run her fingers through her hair. And given the nervous way Emma had been drinking the available water, going pee might be in her favor. A familiar spark of rebellion burned somewhere inside and Emma, encouraging the reckless and stupid behavior that should only have gotten her in trouble during this whole ordeal… rather than the survival it always yielded. So Emma did then as she had done since this started, she ignored the warnings her loved ones had given her and met the eyes of scary nun lady dead on.

"I'll speak now if I have the choice, but by all means, if any of you need to take a break… don't let me stop you. I'll wait."

There were small intakes of air from the wolves she sat with, a hum of victory from the smarmy Mr. Gold seated at the neighboring table, and cold silence from the people seated to judge her. The nun woman looked severe still, even as her mouth cracked the façade with a twitch at the corner.

"Then we'll continue on. Please sit at the center table to begin."

For the first time, Emma Swan told the whole truth to this tale. From the start of the day when she got a tip to the location of one Felix Refur and the bounty he bounced into her bank account, to the bar she had chosen at random to enter when Ruby had cancelled. To meeting Walsh, to discovering what he was, to Killian's entrance, and waking days later confined to a bed. She spoke of running her own search programs to find Walsh, and the way she had pushed her body to recover faster than what Graham and Ruby had been allowing. She spoke of the dinner out and meeting Killian again, breaking her own rule of leaving personal anecdote's out of testimonies and admitting that Killian had been kind and attentive to her from the start. Almost to herself she revealed that she would have picked up on the dinner conversation for what it had been if she had been at 100%, but it's easy to ignore the terrible and curious things when you're having a good moment. She admitted that finding out everyone's truth that same night hurt more than Walsh's attack, and that normally it would have taken her years to come to grips with the lying, but survival and hopeful denial kept her moving forward with everyone. Now having gone through her time as Walsh's prisoner, she wasn't going to waste any more time hurt by it; especially since she had survived this long and was hoping to continue doing so. She brought up the honey trap they had tried to use on Walsh, with Killian pulling out of it when the threat of open violence to bystanders became more than he could control. She spoke of the near capture in the park that followed the next day, and how it all became frighteningly real for her at that point. Of the Pow Wow that decided a trip north was the best way to end this, and the overwhelming night of meeting the sources behind literature icons. She spoke of August, of the doubt he felt towards the job Killian was doing, and the story he told the next morning. She openly blamed herself for getting caught, she confessed that no one forced her to run off and that she frankly knew better. Getting trapped by Grandmother was her own fault.

Emma then went into every vivid detail she could describing exactly what Walsh Singe and Grandmother had said and done to her. Every word and every touch. She spoke of her compliance to keep herself alive, hoping that someone would find her. She spoke of Walsh's escalating madness and the need to force her mistakes so he could punish her for them. An escalation that pushed her to stop waiting for a rescue, and simply for an opening to escape. Pictures were shown of the remaining wounds Walsh had inflicted to her during her imprisonment, including the brand still etched into her thigh. She recalled moment by moment what he did in that living room, and how she made her escape. Here, she took her first pause and sipped from her water glass, needing a second to swallow down the bile that had risen in speaking of those night's in Walsh's care.

"I didn't expect to survive." Emma continued. "I didn't want to die, and I kept telling myself that I could get to the nearest road or another home and make a phone call… but I knew I didn't kill him, and the damage I had inflicted was only enough to delay his rage. I just refused to die in that room, or in that house. I wouldn't let him have that. If he was going to kill me eventually, it would be out in the open, and away from his control. I would always be the one that escaped him. I honestly didn't expect Killian to be there racing towards me, nor the rest to be right behind him. I'm glad it happened that way though. Not only was I the one that escaped him, he was still less than Killian, even after everything Grandmother had done for him. I passed out then, couldn't have been long because Killian was still eating Walsh when I came to. David, Graham, and Ruby were there with two other wolves whom David claimed were Robin and his mate. David was encouraging me to inch my way towards their small group because Killian wasn't in his right mind anymore, that he had all but lost it. All Killian had told me this whole time was how neither himself, nor his wolf would ever hurt me. In fact, when his eyes were white and his voice was a little off, it was more than just an assurance. I'm not sure I could give you the proper word for it, or if there is one at all. But if I could count up the things I'm able be sure of while my life gets stolen and shifted into whatever world you folks live in, Killian's promise that he would never hurt me would be one of them. Water is wet, fire is hot, Killian won't hurt me. Killian eventually came around enough and allowed David to come help me, and the next thing I remember was waking up in a hospital here in Chicago."

The nun woman sat staring at Emma. Her eyes dark and deep and her face unmoving. "Thank you Miss Swan for your candid recollection. At this moment, I'm invoking a small recess to allow everyone a much-needed break–"

"I'm allowed to question her further Madam Chair, surely you mean after I choose to or not?" Mr. Gold interrupted.

"You will be allowed what this panel affords you Gold. Court will resume after ten minutes, I suggest everyone use the time wisely."

The allotted time passed quickly for Emma. Her three friends scolding her soundly for doing exactly the opposite of what they had told her to do during her time at the table, though they did a poor job hiding their obvious pride in her for it.

The Councilmembers regained their seats, looking more somber than before –if possible. Nun lady leaned forward, hands folded primly in the table, "During the break, this panel convened over the Challenge to Alpha David Nolan has claimed. This is further complicated in Miss Swan's own testimony, it was a woman that took her away, not Walsh Singe himself. However, under the Law that women are not allowed to ascend to Alpha –nor do we even know if she was wolf to enact such Challenge claims, her actions would be directly tied to the next male wolf above her in rank. Who, by all accounts was Mr. Singe. It is the judgement of this panel that the death of Mr. Singe in relation to the open Challenge will be reviewed separately after these current trials pending further investigation. It is also the judgement of this panel that Emma Swan under no means incited or forced a wolf into going against The Law. This trial from this point on will be to determine her threat to our way of life, and as such how we deal with hers."

Mr. Gold leapt to his feet, his skin doing weird things in the light. "I am allowed a chance to question her! You deny the Law in this judgement!"

The gaunt woman spoke again, "Oh sit down Oompa-Loompa. You weren't exactly trying to do your job anyway, just using this trial as means to lay down the foundation for the next one. If you have any questions to ask of her in regard of her spilling our secrets, you are free to do so. Otherwise, do shut your crooked mouth." Mr. Gold stood seething. The woman smiled toothily at him, letting two fangs drop slowly as they stared each other down. "Oh don't give me that look pet, blame chisel-chin over there for throwing a wrench in your oh so hidden plot of making The Captain out to be the bad guy. Be a good Leprechaun now and sit on your clovers."

"If you're both done?" The nun lady finally looked irritated. "We'll make this simple and quick considering what the rest of our night is likely to be. We'll go down the line, each Councilmember declaring 'Acceptance' or 'Death' for the fate of Miss Swan. Majority wins. Anton?"

The very large Hagrid impersonator leaned forward. "Acceptance."

"Nova?"

The small woman with huge eyes leaned forward. "Acceptance… definitely acceptance."

"Merlin?"

Emma's jaw dropped while Lin the Nurse leaned forward. "Acceptance."

"Ruth Nolan?"

"Acceptance."

"Archibald Hopper?"

"Acceptance, of course."

"Ella DeVil?"

"Acceptance darling." The room paused, and just about everyone eyed her warily. "Why do you all looked surprised? She was forced into our world, and given the ample opportunity humans have to blab online these days, she kept her mouth shut. More to the point my sweet dears, I've been very candid in my opinions towards her confinement. Mr. Singe kept her locked and chained to a solitary room, and she has yet shown anyone save the memory of Mr. Singe a drop of animosity. Even closer to the point, she'll be Ruth's problem if it backfires."

"Malcolm Aran?"

The young boy at the end only watched the defending counsel, tapping his fingers in time with the flickering of the lights. Though Emma wondered if the lights weren't flickering because of his tapping. A wry smile curved the boy's mouth. "Acceptance. I always like it when new players enter the game."

Madam Chair nodded, "I move for acceptance as well. Unanimous decision to bring Emma Swan into a Pack so noted. Wolf Law dictates that all females be brought in under a Pack Alpha. This would mean Emma Swan is put through The Change and hopefully becomes a wolf herself, or she remains human and is married to a member of that Alpha's pack within six months' time. Miss Swan, we will take your personal feelings on this heavily into consideration, but this also remains a decision of this panel."

Ruth leaned forward, "Apologies Madam Chair, but I must intercede. Pack magic works like ley lines. Each person a node and with specific lines between them and the rest of the pack. Familial ties separate than mating ties, separate from Pack ties. The more ties converging on one wolf, the more they feel from the other ends, and an Alpha has to bear the weight of just about every tie within his Pack. By forcing her to make a choice now, you force whatever pack takes her to bear her emotional and mental damage before she's had a chance to heal; you even chance making that damage worse. It'll weaken the pack while they are trying to bring her into the fold. The Law stands and she must make the choice to become a wolf or wife, but that choice doesn't have to come now. As the representative of the Werewolves, I ask that her decision be delayed under supervision so that she might have a better chance to come away from these recent traumas, and have a smoother transition into our world."

The man named Anton and the woman named Nova had been huddled tight together on the end, sharing secrets of some importance given the intense look they both shared. Madam Chair caught it and called them to attention. They both looked sheepish for speaking out of turn, but not the least bit sorry. Nova leaned in towards her mic again, "If Pack magic indeed works that way, and given Miss Swan's limited experience with Pack Life, forcing her into a Pack _at all_ could be detrimental to the Pack itself."

Ruth turned, "Very true, and as such, we shouldn't force a Pack to take on these troubles. Thankfully, there are three packs already aware of her situation and offering her a home. New York Trinity North, Brookside, and the Nomads."

Nova continued, "Oh that's good then! For her obviously, but each pack is wildly different than the other. She could spend time with each to see which pack would suit her needs. It would give her some time to heal and figure out if she wants to be a wolf or wife. It would also give her the most options by way of where she'd like to call home, and prospects of potential mates."

Anton leaned in, looking directly at Emma with as much sympathy that large man could fit on his face. "Not every Pack is a perfect fit. This would give you a chance to find a home to settle in."

Madam Chair nodded, "This is acceptable within the lines of the Law. Emma Swan will spend three months with each Pack. It'll be the duty of each Alpha to teach her the new Laws she falls under and sorting out a list of potential mates for her consideration. This list will be comprised of potentials that are of sound mind and character, and in compliance with Miss Swan's personal preferences. An arranged marriage it might be, but she shouldn't be shackled to the worst of the lot."

This was the best possible outcome; Emma knew that. But Emma felt hollow. Her life plotted and planned away with little choice left for her. _I'm back in foster care…_

A gavel banged three times, calling an end to the Trial of Emma Swan; she was free in some sense of the word. With Ruby and Graham holding an arm each, and David covering her back, she was escorted from the room. Emma could feel cold eyes tracking her exit, giving her the idea that she had just made a very powerful enemy for no other reason than people cared about what happened to her. In fact, they cared so much that they were all deciding how the rest of her life would go. What zip code her house and picket fence would have, who she would have 2.5 kids with, and if she should apply for the Tooth and Claw upgrade to life. Her head fell to Graham's shoulder, hiding the stray tears in the fabric of his suit.

Ruby let go of her arm and thrust a hot cup in her hands. "Drink that Emma. You're going to need it, because this night isn't over." Her soft hands stroked Emma's face, "And don't worry about this too hard. I know you're thinking you're back in the system, and that's true enough in comparison. But you're going to be with Graham, David or Robin. And not one of them will force you into the Change, nor into a marriage unless you ask for it. _You're_ picking the home, it's not the home picking _you_ ; and there's three homes asking to have you this time. You will always have me and Granny, so don't start thinking you'll be saying good-bye to us either."

A throat cleared behind them causing Emma to groan. She wasn't in the mood for much right now. She turned as Graham did, still clinging to his side. The Councilmember with the riot of red hair and Harry Potter glasses stood there, a gentle smile on his face and hands clasped in front of his chest. Ruby took a half step in front of Emma's exposed side, and David came around entirely to block the man of a direct view of Emma with his arms crossing his wide chest.

"Oh come on guys, you know I'm on your side here. And what the panel came up with was the best possibility Miss Swan could have gotten out of that bunch."

David raised his hand, "We know Archie. But Emma's had enough for the night; can you wait to tell her in the morning?"

"I can speak for myself David. And if it's all the same to you guys, I'd rather pile it on right now _and then_ get sleep. I don't want to look forward to any more of The Council's decisions."

David turned, an eyebrow popped as he searched her face. "Alright Emma, if that's what you want."

Red hair took a few steps closer to her, tilting his head and exposing his neck to David. Something Emma would ask about later… much, _much_ later. "Name's Archie Hopper if you didn't catch it during the trial. I represent your basic shapeshifters, and I'll be your personal representative to The Council during the time of your integration. Normally, it would be your own representative, but since Ruth is the mother of one of the bidding packs, we all felt she was too close to the final decision to be objective in this."

"You could just say you're my new case worker." Emma deadpanned.

Archie shifted on his feet, "Well, yes you could say I am that. But I'll also be serving as your personal counselor."

"You mean therapy?"

"Yes. You experienced some horrible things, and the way Pack magic works means that trauma will reverberate throughout the pack you ultimately tie to. The Council isn't heartless –well, not all of them, some of them can't help it either– it was Blue's decision to provide you with as much help as we could give you."

"Blue?"

Ruby stepped closer again, "Nun Lady in the middle. What's the catch Archie?"

"No catch. And I'm certified with the State of Colorado, Montana, and Wyoming to practice this medicine. I'll also be helping you find employment should you chose Brookside, I don't think there are many job opportunities living with the Nomads, and we figured if you chose Alpha Humbert's pack, you'd just return to your old job. The pack Alpha's have to bring you up to speed on Wolf Law specifically, but I'm the one who will instruct you on the basic laws we all have to adhere to. Interspecies relations and the sort. And since I apparently need to remind these guys I'm on your side, in the interest of full disclosure, I'll tell you that my job as your representative also includes reporting back how well you're adjusting and how well you're healing –if at all– in case other options should be explored."

"You mean if they need to send someone like Killian to kill me after all."

He nodded. "Sadly, we've had to do so before. But I don't think we'll ever get to that point with you."

Emma pursed her lips. "Points for honesty."

Archie shifted on his feet again, "There is one more thing. We deliberated on more than just the Alpha Challenge David threw at us during that recess. You filed a request to sit in on the trial of Killian Jones right?"

David spoke up again. "It's important that she's there. If you want him calm enough, especially with that particular defending counsel in there, just her being in the room will help."

Archie looked David in the eyes, a bold move considering he had just played submissive. "It was unanimous that Emma–"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Council Roster as introduced: Anton representing giants, trolls, and ogres. Nova/Astrid representing lesser Fae. Merlin "Lin the Nurse" representing witches, warlocks, and other magic users. Ruth Nolan representing the Werewolves. Reul Ghorm "Blue/Nun Lady/Madam Chair" representing higher Fae. Archibald Hopper representing all known shifters (between human and otherwise). Cruella "Ella DeVil" representing the Vampires. Malcolm Aran "Pan" representing non-corporeal beings of malevolent or benign natures.


	28. The Phantoms We Chase

**Chapter 27**

**The Phantoms We Chase**

* * *

Killian let himself be schlepped to the center table, clad in cotton sweats and bound in irons. Rather, that's what these chains would have been called in his youth, but time and ingenuity had shifted the rudimentary metal to become copper plated silver for the sake of containing wolves such as him. The silver was enough to slow him down and reduce his strength, but the copper plating made it so the pliant metal wouldn't corrode his skin. The guards had been blaming his ever-present lethargy to the constant use of the restraints (complaining further over the extra effort to haul him from room to room) but Killian knew better; it was her, he didn't have Emma. His own fault, too full of relief that she had been alive and still fighting and too eager to shed the insanity, he had been weak willed when he let them drag him from her door. He hadn't even dared touch on the bond between them since, too anxious he'd find it riddled with her resentment on his inability to rescue her in time, or worse, he'd find her dead from her injures. It lay dormant within him; a fragile piece of magic proving what a failure he had been from moment one. He couldn't protect her; he couldn't save her… his _solas na gréine le rian sc_ _á_ _th ar a ceathar_. Killian shook his head, scattering the thoughts that only pushed him deeper into the rabbit hole of his madness, to the point where he was ready to sit at the Mad Hatter's table and celebrate his un-birthday while trading stock secrets with the March Hare. He almost leaned over and asked for his own cuppa to the vacant airspace simply because his insanity was still deep enough to cause phantom scents; wretched little plonkering specters going as far as to torment him with Emma's sunshine and gunpowder. Downright rude if you asked him. So of course, Killian chose to slouch most undignified in his chair; if they couldn't be mindful of their manners, why should he? Someone must have agreed with his current frame of mind, as a snort sounded from somewhere behind him; he considered the Dormouse running about and playing hide and seek with him for only a few seconds. Figures then, that the panel would have discourtesy of showing up while he was turning to thank his admirer –whomever it might be, even if it was simply his ghosts finding their verbal response systems. He watched as his own personal funeral procession took their seats in hurried shuffles, mocking him with this farce of a trial. Killian wasn't unaware of his situation; Cora had thrown him under the proverbial bus and his very recent bout with irrationality only seemed to cement her allegations. He found it odd though that the opposing counsel wasn't currently present to do whatever bidding Cora had manipulated them into. Killian wasn't too sure if that boded well for him or not.

The woman who sat in the middle and leading this gaggle of gits looked up and down her row of peers, "We are all in agreement to how this shall go forward?" The panel nodded their concurrence. "Very well." The woman made a few marks to her notes before directing her attention to him. "Mr. Jones, you have waved your right for representation."

Killian felt an eyebrow move of its own volition; possibly because the answer she sought was as obvious as a hole in a sinking ship. "Aye… I hold to no pack, therefore no pack should come forward and bear my burden."

The Madam Chair looked back to her notes, feigning confusion. "We have statements declaring something quite different Mr. Jones. Granny and a Miss Ruby Lucas have declared and provided proof of your cooperation to both Written Law and the rules governing The Free-Zone. An Alpha Graham Humbert declared your requests and uses of his pack's resources, and open obedience to his authority while outside his borders. An Alpha David Nolan declared similar with the added note of lending your own natural ranking dominance to not only help encourage a female through her Change, but in keeping his pack in control while its Alpha was indisposed; voluntarily and without an expressed request if I'm reading this correctly. It sounds very much like you hold to many packs, Mr. Jones."

There were rude noises threatening to come out, not entirely suitable if he wanted to see dawn. "Madam Chair, while those statements are true, basic respect for figures of authority does not equate to loyalty to them or their circumstance. I was working under my own agenda and simply greasing the wheels to get others to help with the heavy lifting, as it were."

"Ignoring your previous and well documented indifference to any and all authority you mean?" She looked up to him, her eyebrow curving as she held his eyes. "Mr. Hopper? For the record please, is Mr. Jones mentally fit to stand trial?"

"Mr. Jones is fully aware of his predicament, lucid and cognitive when questioned. However, as Mr. Jones just so aptly displayed, he hides his practical altruism under the cover of pragmatism. In the few sessions I had with him, if at any point I challenged his motives to seeking help, his wolf would then be ascendant and claim as much responsibility for itself as it could –at times more than it could, leaving out as many secondary persons as possible. In no way will Mr. Jones say or do anything that will allow blame flow backwards to the people who ended up working with him. If he can't place fault where he believes it properly goes, then he will take it on himself. He is fit to stand trial, but not without a representative to help him keep perspective or to intervene on his behalf."

"Ever 'The Captain' aren't you Killian?" Killian clicked his eyes to the young boy forever locked in his mid-pubescent stages, looking away when the room began to feel colder.

"This is bollocks–"

"You will keep a civil tongue in this court Mr. Jones." Though her tone was even, the threat was apparent and no one actively tried to cross the Reul Ghorm.

"Of course, Madam Chair. My apologies. Just where would you like me to keep my tongue civil?" He ran the muscle languidly along his bottom lip before biting onto it with a salacious grin. A laugh stifled itself behind him before something else shushed it, and a mist of warmth tickled his neck.

"Ha… uh… if anything, this proves my point further." The Shifter continued, "He is certainly willing to risk this panel's ire, if it serves his purposes of keeping the focus solely on himself and not those who got involved later on."

"Very well. Do we have representation available for Mr. Jones?" Her fathomless dark eyes had yet to leave his.

Three voices (Two men he never expected to show up and a woman he was hoping wouldn't) sounded from behind him. "At the Ready Madam Chair."

Killian rolled his eyes back in his head. _Bugger me…_

"Only one of you will be needed, Alpha Nolan? Since Mr. Jones seems to have provided you with the most assistance without provocation, why don't you return the favor? And please remind him to keep his manners on a more professional scale. I wouldn't enjoy delaying these proceedings due to having him thrown in contempt of court for however long I felt he would need to calm his libido."

The broad shouldered mass that was David came forward and stood behind Killian at the confessor's table. A firm clap struck him upwards along the back of his head before a hand clasped the back of his neck, forcing the tilt of submission. Lips were close to his ear with a stern voice. "Knock it off Jones and let us help."

David took his new seat at the table to the right and slightly behind him while a new mist of warmth tickled along Killian's jaw. As gentle as a kiss from butterfly wings, and just as aggravating.

"For time purposes, we'll pass Mr. Jones recounting of the events as he has already gone in detail –and at extreme length–" Killian winked at the Fae woman for good measure; her eye roll wasn't as endearing as Emma's. "…and go straight into questioning starting from the end of Miss Swan's initial attack and Mr. Singe's retreat."

"Killian dear," The vampire woman struck first in her over eagerness to attain gossip. "Why did you choose to save the female over killing your target? Her death might be regrettable for some, but that course of action would have bypassed all this ghastly business."

It was the same question Emma had asked him when everything had come spilling out. It was the same question he had asked himself ever since he had made the decision. It was a question he still wasn't ready to answer out loud, so he deflected to the next best thing. "I kill when asked because of the necessities to our world. I won't murder when it's more convenient."

The demon boy came at him next with far too much glee in his eyes. "Your handler paints a very different picture. _Their_ accounting portrays you receiving our kill order from the start. They have provided evidence showing multiple occasions where you could have taken Mr. Singe out –even a few where you could have succeeded in the capture order you claim to have been given– and yet you repeatedly failed to make a move _at all_ on your prey."

Killian choked down the colorful words he had in regards to his handler. "I cannot comment on evidence I haven't seen for myself."

The boy continued. "Then answer if there were ever any opportunities as your handler described, regardless of time frame."

"Only after Emma Swan had become involved."

"Do you have anything to support your claims Mr. Jones?" The vampire woman jumped in again, and Killian worried briefly if anyone else in the room felt anxiety over the apparent copasetic nature the two foul creatures on the end seemed to have.

Killian nodded, "I do. I have digital and hard copies of every transaction composed by myself and my handler."

The demon boy laughed and sat back in his chair, "Forgeries."

Killian pictured throwing something sharp towards that end of the panel. "No. But if that's a possibility this panel is considering against me, then I submit the same scrutiny be applied to my handler."

The dark eyes that never stopped staring at him narrowed and the woman leading the panel spoke again, leaving the room holding its collective breath. "Why?"

Killian swallowed. "On the grounds that my handler, one Cora Mills, became involved with Walsh Singe early on during my part of the hunt if not involved directly from the beginning."

The Blue Star didn't flinch at his knowledge of his handler's name. "Interesting you say that, since she said the same thing –almost verbatim– about you."

Killian sat up, engaged now in dragging the woman he trusted into the muck he was currently living in. "Ah… but does she have proof of said involvement other than possible opportunity? Motive perhaps? I am in possession of Council documents dating back to the 1900's proving that both bloodlines and Change Lines exist between Cora and Walsh."

The Blue Star shook her head, "That's not proof of involvement. As you said, what would be her motive?"

"Madam Chair?" Another voice sounded from behind him, one decidedly male and Irish.

Killian turned as much as he could to face Graham. "Sod it all, why are you here and not with Emma?!"

The Blue Star spoke at the same time Killian had, "Alpha Humbert, you speak without cause!"

Graham stood to Killian's right, giving a quick squeeze to the available shoulder. "My apologies Madam Chair and Councilmembers. Mr. Jones employed me to provide an outsider's point of view to the transactions and all case files in question, prior to the movement to Brookside. Something Mr. Singe had mentioned triggered Killian's instinct to reevaluate the case as it was." Humbert held up a small flash drive between his fingers. "I have here: the collected files of everything he had, the Council documents he mentioned, and a power point program detailing how each piece fits together. Cora Mills, the witch/wolf Fusion, was the biological mother of a Leena Glasach, another Fusion of the same combination. Leena was the wolf that Changed Walsh Singe during her chaotic run in London 1941. By Sire Lines and bloodlines, this would make Cora Mills, Walsh's 'Grandmother'. Cora would have discovered Walsh when The Council of that time sent her across the ocean to replace the handler Killian had lost." Graham held up a single finger, "There is her opportunity. Cora's own misbehaviors are open to public Council documents, including her interviews during her rehabilitation when she openly confessed her need to rise in power to have control over her destiny. Motive." He held up a second finger and shortly thereafter, a third. "It should be obvious that her position under The Council provided her with ample means."

Once more Killian was surprised by a male voice. But this one was of the Scottish bent and back behind his left flank, inciting his wolf to rise to the surface on instinct. "A riveting tale. And all of it nothing better than circumstantial or speculation. Madam Chair, I feel I should be quoting Law as you seem to have forgotten proper trial procedure."

The disdain was obvious on the face of the Reul Ghorm. "And what procedure have we forgotten?"

"The one that declares no trial can proceed without established counsel for both parties present."

Ella DeVil leaned forward looking the picture of artificial contriteness. "That, I guess could be blamed on me oh King of the Lilliput's. Vampire you see, I have a hard-set bedtime to adhere to, and your little outburst at the earlier trial ate up precious time. It was cast to a vote that _this_ trial be moved up. Did you not get the message I sent you?"

The Crocodile of Killian's nightmares growled, "I received no notice."

The vampire Ella gave her best pout, "Oh dear. Well that won't do. I suppose we could move for a mistrial, but then Killian Jones will be acquitted of all current charges, of course you'll be able to take that to Appeals but we all know what a bureaucratic hell that is–"

"Not necessary. Alpha Humbert, if you'll be so kind as to hand over those files so I might be able to catch up during a twenty-minute recess? I assume you thought ahead enough to provide a timeline of events somewhere in your research?"

Graham handed it over, "Of course." His hand reached back into his pocket, procuring three more drives as he turned back to the panel. "I have enough here for everyone, if you'll permit me to approach and distribute them?"

The Crocodile fumed from wherever he stood; Killian could feel it dragging his madness up to match. "I'm sure it was covered _illegally_ prior my entrance, but how are we to know the legitimacy of these digital copies, something so easily tampered with on a computer?"

Graham shrugged as he stood by Ruth Nolan, "As I said, most of these documents are open to public or Council documents obtained through proper channels. Nothing was attained illegally, and all verifiable with your investigation method of choice. The case files –the hard copies– belonging to Mr. Jones, however, are locked away and safe until he is found not guilty."

The Blue Star stopped him as he moved in front of her to hand over another drive. "Are you implicating this panel of being untrustworthy Alpha Humbert?"

David rose then, finally joining in on whatever plan they had concocted. "There is no offense intended Reul Ghorm. But given the evidence we found against a person under The Council's employ, it would be foolish for us to assume that the possible corruption ended with her. For our protection, for the protection of our packs and their families, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, we are choosing to proceed with a modicum of caution in trust at this juncture."

His madness was clawing at him with the strength of his wolf, driving him towards the devil in a three-piece suit; the silver dulling his movements to mere wiggling. The god forsaken Crocodile was _right there_ within ten feet and the best Killian could manage were hallucinations and simple body shifting. He could care less what little plan the Alphas were playing at, not when the quarry of a hunt he had been on for as long as he had been a wolf was so easily attainable. Even his chair was against him, as it grew wings and folded themselves around his shoulders, further halting his movements to kill the imp.

"Madam Chair, I move we recess until Belle French can be brought inside. She's currently visiting the daycare down on the third floor… _before_ this gets messy would probably be best for all of us." David flexed his arms against Killian's continued struggle, battling his own instinct to thrown down his dominance and force the submission.

"We'll send for her, but this trial cannot be delayed any further. Do what you can." The Blue Star cracked her detached façade for a brief second and sent the confessor' table a sympathetic smile.

The mist of warmth that had been playing with Killian all night grew thick and suffocating. He gagged as it forced its way down his orifices, pushing away the madness as it went. He wasn't sure if he should be thankful to the mist for bringing clarity, or fight off its effects for shifting his focus off his old target. He heard the room continue on without sharing his torment, bickering over trivial nonsense that couldn't matter with The Crocodile standing with them. Killian panted as sweat beaded along his hairline, the room becoming as warm as a summer day, and nearly as bright. Still the wings held him as his body fought the suffocation, fought the loss of will and the enhancement of strength only pure lunacy could bring.

_So much sunlight…_

His eyes snapped open with realization the same moment she spoke from behind. "If it pleases the panel, I might have a solution to the issue of forged documents and who might be lying."

His Swan was here. His beautiful, stubborn, willful Emma standing before the Councilmembers with as little fear as she had at the Brookside gathering. Pride shot through him like a drug, giving him new energy to struggle against the shapeshifting chair (Which smelled peculiarly of a barn), to see her. She was alive. Alive and well and still defiant of how things were supposed to happen while implementing her own techniques. He needed to touch her, to bury his nose in her hair, and press his lips to her skin…

He needed to get her the hell out of this room where the Crocodile was able to affect her. He needed to protect her from his darkness, his manipulations.

_She's not safe here… not safe… not safe…_

David's arms tightened once more, "Blue, we're losing time here."

"So I see. Miss Swan, I know you are versed in basic court etiquettes. I expected more from you when we granted you a chance to sit in on Mr. Jones trial. And as far as I can see, the promise that your presence would help keep him calmer seems to be lacking." Killian's ire swung to the Fae woman as he felt the need to gash out her tongue for saying such harsh things to his Emma.

"Well, to be fair. Killian was doing just fine until the defense counsel showed up, so I don't think blaming me is appropriate either. However, in the interest of time –as so many of you seem hell bent on keeping– I really think I have an idea to go with here. What harm could there be in hearing it?" Killian stilled a moment, in awe of his little human talking back to The Reul Ghorm.

"Very well. What do you propose?"

"As I stated in my testimony, there was a woman that visited twice. She insisted to both Walsh and I that we call her 'Grandmother'. Show me a group of photos including one of Killian's handler; identify none of them to me. If it's the same woman, I will be able to positively single her out of the photos. If not, then at least we know we have an unknown player still out on the loose." Her voice was closer to him, wrapping around his ears like a lullaby.

Until the sneering tones of the Crocodile broke through and interrupted her song. "As admirable as it is to come to your hero's rescue Miss Swan, the trauma inflicted upon you has most likely tampered with your memory. We would have to wait for your own psyche evaluation before we could even take anything you say into account. Your human recounting isn't as reliable as a wolf's or a Fae's could be."

Killian heard shuffling, and though he couldn't turn his head to check, he knew his Swan had folded her arms in front of her chest and given the bloody imp a withering look. "My memory was just fine for you earlier."

A god-awful squealing giggle pierced Killian's ears. "Yes well… you weren't accusing a potentially innocent woman during any of that. Your words carry more weight now."

"Then I willingly submit myself to any method you folks have –magical or otherwise– to prove the validity of my memory. I know at least one of you has a quicker method than a few sessions on Doc Hopper's couch."

Killian's wolf reared at her words, unwilling to let her go through any test the damned Fae, vampire, or the sodding demon boy could come up with. He struggled again, earning him a set of whispers to his ear assuring him that Emma was fine and knew what she was doing.

The sorcerer leaned forward, "Let the record show that I tested Emma Swan myself for any residual magical effects. The only item present was a near depleted healing charm placed over a month ago. Her memory and her body have not been altered in a way that would negate any test placed to her at this time."

The Blue Star nodded, "Are we all in agreement to let this pass?" The panel all consented with their own nods or murmurs. "As it is then… Gold? In the interest of balance, we set it to you to perform the test. Use the dream catcher so that we might all be able to see what Miss Swan has seen."

Killian's Crocodile was vibrating with anger, and it pleased Killian's wolf. His brilliant Emma had out maneuvered the imp, who all but growled his acquiescence. "Of course Madam Chair."

The Crocodile lifted his briefcase to his table, opening it and reaching inside. Killian knew the briefcase was empty, and the whole of the Crocodile's actions were simply for the show of hiding the extent of his abilities. ( _Always a lying bastard, even when he doesn't need to be._ ) Out came the circular object, feathers hanging and twitching under the slightest movement. The imp moved to stand in front of The Reul Ghorm, blocking out her image entirely and giving Killian a new nightmare of The Dark One running The Council. Bloody imp must have planned such a visage as he smiled fractionally to Killian before beckoning Emma to stand in front of him. Again, another new nightmare as he watched his Swan stand in front of him and stare down his oldest enemy, willingly being subjected to whatever sick magic the imp had at his disposal. Killian lunged on impulse, held back only by the sheer mass of David Nolan.

Emma held up her finger, "One moment… just… gimmie a second." And before they could deny her, she stepped back two paces with the other hand reaching backwards to his face. Her scent washed over him and he leaned as far forward as he could manage with David still bodily holding him down. She never turned, never took her attention from the Dark One and the Councilmembers in front of her, but he could feel part of her focus swing behind her to him. Her fingertips glanced over his forehead, and he tilted back to bring them closer to his nose, needing to scent her as much as he could. His shoulders slumped under the relief of being so close. Her fingers dropped an inch and he was able to just barely nip at the soft pads of them. He heaved a sigh, letting go of his insanity for just a second. A move he ended up regretting as she took it as a sign to return to her place in front of the imp.

"Ok. Will this hurt?"

Killian could partially see the imp's face over Emma's shoulder, and saw the bastard smile at her. Looking alarmingly impressed by gods knows what, and Killian's wolf stirred again. "Not a pinch Miss Swan. All you need do is stare at the center of the strings where it looks like an eye. Look there, and remember your first meeting with the woman named 'Grandmother'. The dream catcher will do the rest."

The imp held up the item in front of Emma. The feathers fluttered with a non-existent wind and the beads began to slide up and down the strings, uninhibited by the connections as they should have been. Faster and faster they moved, the strings glowing in their wake like comet's tails until they were overlapping one another and forming a technicolor swirl in the ring. Emma's fingers flexed, her thumb rubbing over the fingertips he had managed to touch, giving Killian hope that she was somehow still trying to touch him by proxy. Soon the swirling circle in front of her moved itself into images of a sparse room and a chain about her ankle. A blinding light and then a silhouette of a short woman came into view.

The imp snorted, "Sadly Miss Swan, these objects can't produce audio. So unless the sun suddenly comes out in your memory, I'm afraid none of these images matter."

Emma growled well enough to be wolf herself. "Don't give up so easily. Let it run, she comes closer."

The Crocodile scowled, but continued to hold up the dream catcher. A tray of food appeared to Emma's left and remained untouched; pride swelled again for his clever girl and her mistrust of considerate gestures. The silhouetted woman sprung back to her feet then, moving quickly to Emma's bedside. Killian wondered for a moment if Emma was going to be struck for her insolence, but it all passed as the face of Cora Mills became clear in Emma's mind. Killian felt a momentary rush of satisfaction, before all was lost to the rage of his wolf.

* * *

The creepy man looked more disappointed when Grandmother revealed herself in Emma's mind and through the magic glowing circle (she wasn't going to even start asking how the Native-American culture began to fit into this new world). Mr. Gold's defeat was just going to be something Emma would deal with later since she was currently being dragged to the edge or the room by Ruby. Killian had finally snapped, tossing David somewhere before making a bum rush on Mr. Gold. His movements weren't as graceful as Emma remembered; hindered by the fancy handcuffs and chains they had put him in, but no less frightening as he darted each new direction the defending counsel evaded to. The Council members simply watched on as Killian tried to pin down his target; not an easy task since every time Emma blinked, the man was somewhere else in the room, playing an elaborate game of "Catch Me" that Killian had no hope of winning. The doors opened and a tiny woman with brown hair rushed in to Killian's side. Curiosity and a speck of jealousy went through Emma when the woman's hands grabbed his face and spoke soft words to him. But it all went away to hurt, when whatever this new woman had said worked better and faster than anything Emma had done earlier. Killian slumped, plopping to his ass on the floor, looking like a worn out toddler. Emma noticed that Mr. Gold inched backwards to the far wall too when the woman had come. Whatever game he had been playing with Killian was forgotten to watch the woman stroking Killian's hair. Emma blinked again, and he was gone.

"Miss Swan?" The nun lady's voice boomed over the minor ruckus.

"Yeah? I mean… yes Madam Chair?" Emma brushed the stray hairs from her face and stood straighter.

"Your efforts here will not be forgotten, and you will be dually rewarded. However, I suggest you get on home before more happens."

"But I–"

Nun Lady's attention moved away as she spoke over Emma's protests. "This panel will reconvene tomorrow night in private to discuss the next course of action."

Ruby was pulling her out the doors. Graham and David resumed their flanked positions. Still Emma pulled against them, eager to sit with Killian for just a moment, let him see that she was ok again. Hell, she needed to see that _he_ was ok; they understated it when they said he had lost his mind. She just wanted one touch, one look to his face… one sly grin from him… actions that would tell her everything was going to be fine. But Ruby was stronger than she had ever let on before, and there was a wall of male blocking most of her view of Killian.

She shouted once and the doors closed on her.

On them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Leena Glasach: aka Zelena. Glasach is Scottish Gaelic for green. Yes, I kept her named Green Green as much as I could. We're off to live with the Packs.


	29. Goldilocks and the Three Alphas… Too Hectic

**Chapter 28**

**Goldilocks and the Three Alphas… Too Hectic**

There was a gamut of emotions Emma supposed she should have been feeling during the two-hour flight home out of O’Hare airport. Relief maybe, for being released of any possible responsibility to Walsh or his death, and not being killed off for simply being aware of the spooky things Hollywood would drool over. (Just imagine how much costs could be cut if they didn’t have to rely on bad acting and CG for their productions.) Instead she felt irritated over the cabin air vent either blowing too hard and too cold when on, and leaving her subjected to the stifling cabin air when off. Perhaps she should feel grateful that The Council made efforts to place her with people she felt completely or moderately comfortable with rather than some random pack somewhere in the North American territories. Instead she resented the clouds for forming below her and looking more like a wide white ocean rather than the dragons and unicorns she wanted to see. She wanted to feel worry over Killian and what The Council might decide to do to him. But all she could bring herself to do was to stare out the airplane window into the sky as unhindered by pollution and skyline as she had ever seen it, and grow sick of being surrounded by so much blue.

La Guardia was wonderfully crowded and Emma felt like she was finally in familiar territory. Blank anonymity that could only be given by enormous hordes of bodies and personalities all so tightly wrapped up in their own daily dilemmas that Emma could slip through everyone, and not a single one would know what she had been through.

_Unless one of them was a wolf, then they might smell something from me. A Fae or witch could being doing god knows what kind of hocus-pocus and read my mind._

And just that fast, the secure feeling of being alone in the middle of hundreds of people vanished; Emma couldn’t even keep sanctuary in her own mind without it arguing against her. Ruby closed in quickly to Emma’s side, gripping her arm and startling Emma right into a few folks too rushed to even stop and complain. The flash of hurt across her friends face only made Emma feel more uncomfortable and desperate for her apartment. Graham approached with his and Ruby’s bags in hand, looking between the women with obvious hesitation. Smart man that he was, he remained silent and simply gestured towards the loading curb where one of his pack vehicles waited. Ruby tried to sit close during the ride home to Granny’s, but Emma was finding it difficult to return the gentle touches like before. More than anything she wanted to do just that, to hide deep in the arms –or fur– of her dearest friend. Emma just wanted it to happen when her skin wasn’t still crawling with Walsh’s touch or tainted with that god forsaken artificial baby smell. The more she could identify the stones and bricks of her neighborhood, the more Emma wished she could be a creature that morphed into a rat, just so she could crawl down to the sewers and hide in the grimy dark. There were memories here, strong and loud when all Emma wanted was to forget everything the last two months revealed.

Emma didn’t manage two steps in the back entrance before Granny’s body was pressed to her own, and she didn’t manage all of two seconds before the crawling sensation on her skin took over and she started pushing Granny away. Granny eased her grip, but only just. Her hands clenched Emma’s shoulders as her eyes burned amber; Emma was too stunned with the image to remember the rules of looking down. Granny leaned in, breathing the air around Emma, looking angrier with each sniff.

Granny’s hands cupped Emma’s face, brushing away wetness Emma hadn’t been aware of. “I want her set up in my place for the night. In your old room Ruby. Draw her a bath in my old copper tub and use the lemon oils in it. Set out the rosemary-chamomile soaps. Put her in a set of sweats from my room, and Graham, I want you to go out and buy ten more sets, just for her. Burn what she’s wearing, even the shoes. Emma dear, eat something from my pantry. I don’t care what you eat; just eat. You’ve lost too much weight. Don’t give me that look young lady, I will put you back to where you were even if I have to knock you out and feed you the calories with an IV.”

Graham cleared his throat from behind, “We leave tomorrow for the Pack House Granny. Council’s orders. They want her integrated as soon as possible. Emma needs to pack the things she wants to bring along.”

Granny’s eyes were molten and her nose flattened to nostril slits. The air grew heavy just before loud thuds sounded from the walls and ceilings. “I said put her in my den boy.”

Ruby shuffled Emma upstairs quickly, muttering on about Graham’s apparent idiocy. The warm brown tones of Granny’s home were a welcome change back to the familiar as was the constant smell of cooking and baked goods ingrained into everything around her. It was what home should be with the strength of the wood and the comfort of the fabrics; Emma touched none of it, hugging her arms instead. It was bad enough that she was polluting the air around her; she couldn’t allow the stain of Walsh and Grandmother to settle in here. Her legs itched again, and Emma strongly reconsidered the desire as it has yet to lead to anything good lately. But the more she waited for Ruby to give an all clear for the bath or food or whatever she was setting up, the more Emma twitched and paced in her little spot in the main living area.

And then it was too much. “Ruby!” Her friend was on her in a blink, eyes yellow and hands everywhere checking for bad things to take away. “I’m fine, I swear I’m fine.” Ruby cocked an eyebrow at her, looking disgusted at the blatant lie. “Ok, maybe not _fine_ … but nothing’s physically wrong. I know what Granny said, but I can’t be in here. Can’t we just go back to my place and pack my bags? I need to keep busy and I just… I just can’t be _here_.”

Ruby blanched as the idea of disobeying Granny openly sunk in. But thankfully it wasn’t enough to keep her from giving Emma what she needed. “Compromise Emma. We’ll grab some lunch from Granny’s kitchen; just give me time to put something together? Then we can put crumbs in your bedsheets while you pack up your things.”

Emma shrugged away from Ruby’s touch, rubbing her arms to fight of a false chill. “Just hurry. Idle hands and mind and all that.”

Ruby’s hands twitched as she took a half step closer to Emma, but Emma hugged herself tighter. A grim line set to Ruby’s mouth, “Yeah. Quick as a bunny. Don’t go without me ok? Stay here.”

Emma nodded as Ruby went full speed into the kitchen. The door was still right there, and so was the need to bolt out of it and this place too good for her. Emma stared it down, willing it to stay closed in front of her.

_Don’t go out the door…_

_Don’t go out the door…_

_Don’t go out the door…_

She screamed when something touched her shoulder.

“Hey! Hey! It’s ok Emma… Emma it’s just me… see? Just plain ol’ Ruby…” Emma’s eyes took too long to focus on her friend, picnic basket in hand. “That’s it… breathe… there you go…”

Emma gulped down air. “Sorry, must have zoned out. What did you find? Premade sandwiches or something?”

Ruby paused, “No… no I put together a heavy lunch for two. I was in there for twenty minutes Emma… I even asked you a couple questions, don’t you remember?”

“I didn’t hear you, no. Again, sorry.”

Ruby’s face grew hard. “Emma… you answered me. Each time. You don’t remember?”

Emma was moving the entirety of her closet to the oversized chair in the corner of her bedroom. Ruby was on the bed laying into Mr. Hopper via skype over Emma’s apparent blackout, clearly pissed that Emma was high functioning while catatonic. _Not like it was his fault…_

“I understand Ms. Lucas, I’m worried too. But given Emma’s side of this, I don’t think we have a whole lot to worry about so long as she isn’t left alone during your time in the Pack House. And given the extent of her trauma, I’m more surprised it took her this long to have any showings of PTSD.”

Ruby huffed. “She needs time alone too Doc. She can’t heal if she has a shadow watching her the whole time. I know Emma, she’ll suppress as much as she can until something erupts, or we have another episode like today.”

Emma threw more clothing on the chair. “ _She_ can hear both of you talking. Can’t you prescribe something Doctor Hopper?”

“Archie please. I’m not a fan of formalities.”

“Yes sir.”

Ruby glared at her. “That too. She mentioned that in the trial, how Walsh gradually coerced her into proper manners… and now it’s a default function when men talk to her. She did it to me when I was making lunch, which means it’s also a default setting when she isn’t in complete control.”

Doctor Hopper sighed, “Ms. Lucas, I understand your worry. And the behavior alteration will be noted and kept track of, but Miss Swan was just subjected to weeks of mental abuse. The effects won’t just disappear because she’s home now. I know you want the worst of it over, but the reality is that it’s still coming. Readjusting to what life was before the trauma took place is a long and arduous process, and even then some people find themselves unable to return to what they had or were. They have to reinvent themselves to accommodate this new facet of their life. If you want to still be in either version, you’ll let her make her own path here. Now Emma, I can’t prescribe anything that can prevent a blackout like that. And using any type of magic to quick fix this would render your integration void. You have to learn to live with this and us as you are. It sounds harsh, but our world is a violent one from time to time, learning coping mechanisms now will only help you in the future. I have every faith that you’ll be able to recover from this if you allow it. I would suggest keeping a journal of some kind; dream recordings and time frames you lost with what you were doing right before can help you sort out what’s causing the blackouts. Its cliché, but it is a trick that works. I’m also putting in that Ms. Lucas goes with you to New York Trinity North. You need someone with you at least eighty percent of the time in case these blackouts continue or increase. I know Alpha Humbert is a friend, but he does have a pack to run and several companies and can’t be expected to drop his existing duties. Ms. Lucas? If it seems like Emma has blacked out, I want you to video record her during that time if at all possible. If she can see it happen, it can go a long way to recovery. And if I can see it rather than interpret from first and second hand accounts, I can better diagnose and treat these problems. With any luck, we’ll find a pattern in all this, and patterns suggest triggers. Triggers can be avoided or worked on until they don’t affect her as much anymore. Any questions?”

Ruby growled, but Emma jumped in to save the man’s ears. “Actually, that sounds great. It helps knowing I’m not just floating around waiting to be called crazy. Thanks Archie.”

“Anytime Miss Swan.”

“Only fair that you call me Emma.”

The Doc blushed a bit and signed off. Emma wasn’t lying; it did feel good to know that he had an idea of what she was going through, and what to do about it. Now if she could figure out what to put in her luggage so easily, she would feel fantastic.

“I still had a question for him Emma.” Ruby rarely sounded angry, so Emma turned to her. Ruby moved to stand in front of her, eyes glowing again. “But I guess I can ask you.”

Emma shrugged and took a step away to the chair. “Ok… what?”

Ruby closed in, Emma withdrew again. “That.” The air got stuck in Emma’s throat. “Emma, you weren’t afraid of me before.”

Emma ducked her head. “I’m not afraid of you now either.”

“You’re afraid of something. I can smell it. I know going through this slowly and at your pace would be the best all-around for you, but you are going to be in three packs for the foreseeable future. You can’t be afraid of them; you can’t be afraid period. You’ll set all of them off. I have to push this one, I’m sorry. So what gives?”

“I’m not afraid of you. Or wolves. I just… this is my problem, and I need to deal with this. Walsh hurt me, and I don’t want anyone feeling bad because there isn’t anything they can do to help. I don’t want this bullshit to transfer.” Hurt passed over Ruby’s face. “Like that! I’m hurting you just by talking about it.”

Ruby’s arms exploded outward and held tight to Emma. Holding tighter as Emma began to squirm. “Not letting go Lemur.” Emma froze with the old nickname. “Still not letting go. I get it. Ok? I get _this_ now. I’m a little slow on the uptake because I’m a little preoccupied with trying to make all of this bad stuff go away. I’m _that_ desperate to have you back. But I get it. He touched you, more than just physically, and only in bad ways. So touching anything else, or having things touch you, feels like you’re passing the poison and memory along like a virus. I bet you still smell the baby powder in your nose yes? You reeked of baby powder when we found you.” Emma nodded, beginning to shake in Ruby’s hold. “I can tell you right now, you smell like antiseptic from the hospital in Chicago, the leather seat from Graham’s vehicle, and the mustard from the pastrami sandwich. But that baby powder is burned into your nose, so _you_ smell only that. And because you smell it, it feels like it’s still on you. Probably why Granny pushed so hard for you to be in her den and those specific soaps and oils used on you.” Ruby began stroking Emma’s hair, letting her nails scratch along her scalp. “Which is what we’re going to go do now. Lemon is a strong enough scent to cover up raw fish, even if the lemon doesn’t last long after the bath, you’ll be free of that baby powder during it. I’ll even put a few drops up your nose if you like. It’ll burn like a bitch, but if it gets rid of the memory a little longer, who cares?”

Ruby leaned back to look Emma in the face. “Let’s go do that yeah? Get you zen’d out as much as we can. I’ll stay until I can get Granny up to sit with you, then I’ll come back here and pack your bag; not like you were going to put a thing in there that I didn’t approve of anyway. But the hugging? Touching? I won’t stop giving you comfort because that asshole did something foul. And neither will Granny. I will tell her to keep the moments brief –and I’ll do the same– because your needs have to be met too, but you aren’t spreading his filth by being around anyone. I’ll make sure Graham knows too ok? We can adjust as you do, but we need to get some sort of system worked out before you’ve been around too many wolves. Your anxiety levels –however warranted– will spark reactions.” Ruby grabbed Emma’s chin. “Don’t push us away, and we’ll give you as much space as possible. Deal?”

Emma pulled one more time trying to get out of Ruby’s grasp; one that tightened with raised eyebrows before finally letting go. When Emma didn’t answer right away, Ruby made movements to grab her again. “Yeah ok! Deal! I’ll try to stop fidgeting so much when you hug me.”

Ruby grinned and shook her head. “You know that’s not what I meant, but I’ll take what I can.” She grabbed Emma’s hand, waiting for the shivers to run their course. “C’mon, let’s get you smelling like meringue pie and herbal tea.”

Emma ended up spending the night in Granny’s den, like the old woman had ordered. With the same woman taking up a rocking chair in the same room, between Emma and the door. Emma hadn’t argued, not seeing the point to it once Granny produced the yarn and knitting needles. Her sleep was dreamless, and waking up with scratchy wool covering her face was the next best thing to coffee and bacon being made. The scratchy thing was an old blanket made lord knows when, when yarn wasn’t so heavily treated to be as soft as possible. It sparked a childish like glee to have something so different from what Walsh had subjected her to; she carried it around her shoulders like a cape as she fumbled her way to the kitchen for something to nibble on. Coffee was in fact made –still steaming– and a note from Granny demanding the contents keeping warm in the oven were to be eaten. She didn’t want to go against Granny, but after throwing up for so long, there was only so much Emma could put in her stomach. Compromising once more, she grabbed the plate of bacon and the plate of sausages, dumping them both into a plastic container for easy munching on the go.

Ruby would have handled packing her clothes like she promised, but there were other things that had to come along. Her laptop and cords were going to be a necessity, and her old copy of _The Princess Bride_ went where she did, no exceptions. ( _Well maybe one now… two if I count Walsh… which I don’t want to._ ) The old cigar box of things that might have been –now featuring her most recent foray into unfounded and unwanted crushes– was another requirement. It was easy to label her feelings for Killian now, now that everything was over. Just an attraction gone haywire because of extreme circumstances. Nothing more; not like there ever was time for more. Their date hadn’t even been real. Killian had confessed that night that Emma was his responsibility because of the case, no surprise that he would let her go now that his responsibility was over. Perfectly logical and reasonable that he discontinued communication so they could both readjust to life.

_So why does it hurt like all the other times?_

Emma shoved the old cigar box deep between her clothes to keep it from spilling its contents everywhere during travel. Disgusted with herself for dwelling on conversations that only amounted to friendly chatter, Emma missed the heavy sweater padding the bottom of her luggage, the sets of black undershirts not small enough to be hers, and the Whitecaps jersey carefully hidden in a pocket stuffed with her other undergarments. Truthfully, what she failed to notice was that her brain tracked the items all the same and used it to fuel the ever-growing presence of Killian Jones in her thoughts. Going as far as to blind her eyes to the Taser by her bed, and push the memory of taking it to Killian’s bedroom the night she had stayed with him. With grumbled reluctance, Emma stormed from her place and down the hall to his; his door was still unlocked. His bedroom was orderly, neat and everything in its place. Which is exactly when Emma’s brain clicked the memory of threatening Killian’s balls with it after he rushed in to quiet a nightmare. Her mouth turned down to it, resenting the easy back and forth she had with him, and how easy it seemed for him to walk away from her. Her brain quietly reminded her of the rapid exit she pulled simply because she had woken up next to the man. She huffed, mildly wondering if this arguing with self was anything close to having a wolf stuck inside your head twenty-four hours a day. She was also tired again, a ridiculous thing to be since she was only awake for a few hours now, but she blamed the trial for upsetting her internal clock. Her brain took over once more, having Emma collapse on Killian’s bed rather than travel down the hall to her own. Granny’s knitted blanket still wrapped around her shoulders.

(Ruby found Emma still sleeping there an hour later.)

(Ruby took it upon herself to crack into Emma’s cell phone case and slip a wallet sized photo of Killian within.)

The drive wasn’t long, not compared to the recent trips she had to Maine, not compared too much of anything. Even with traffic, the trip to Scarsdale took only about an hour. Emma couldn’t even settle into a proper brooding stare out of the window, let alone wallow in it. She seemed to blink and there they were before parting gates ( _Brookside’s were better_ ) to an elaborate estate ( _not a castle, just a large house_ ) sitting within sizable grounds ( _no forest edge, just well maintained walls_ ). A male stood outside in wait for them, hands on side-cocked hips. He was decent looking, but judging by Ruby tensing up beside her, Emma judged him to be someone to watch out for. His face certainly held nothing overtly friendly or inviting; it caused Emma’s need to brood deepen even further as her brain sent out images of a cocky swagger following a self-satisfied smile.

_I really need to stop using him as a base comparison. For obvious reasons…_

Graham eyed the man with obvious resignation, “Ruby, take our Emma up to my rooms. I’ll deal with this.”

There wasn’t an answer from Ruby, just quiet compliance and a quick shuffle of them both to get through the front doors. Inside was decorated with pumpkins and general signs of fall, but that was as much as Emma paid attention to as Ruby navigated to Graham’s bedroom, retreating back into herself rather than take in yet another set of new walls; she didn’t even notice when they arrived. It was just more hallways and stairways that she’d be ripped from anyway. Three months only, and then she’d be taken from the only family she knew for another six. Depression never had an easier target. Or so many enemies, as soon as Emma felt the first stirrings for dark oversized clothing and angst rock, Ruby had Emma locked in her arms and shushed words for her ears. Emma held off her need to be untouched as long as she could, but when it felt like there would be repeats of the food Walsh had cooked, Emma caved to them. Not that Ruby listened too well, growling at Emma’s escape attempt; it caused Emma to physically push Ruby away and vomit all over the both of them.

Simultaneous cursing erupted from both of them. As did the apologies.

“You said you’d keep the touching short… I tried to get away… _fuck_ … I’m sorry Ruby. I should have said something, I’ll try–“

Ruby growled again, just much louder, and Emma quit her rambling. “Don’t you dare finish that line of thought. I hugged you because you were spiraling, and because I’m already in a bad mood –and _that’s_ because of someone else entirely– I got overly…” Ruby twisted her lips in consternation, momentarily lost for a proper word. “…maternal… I guess. This is my fault. Though I won’t argue against some sort of verbal cue, might even make it easier to back down the wolf.”

Emma blew out a breath as she relived shoving a hot poker into Walsh’s neck; needing to redirect the anxiety and anger somewhere more appropriate. The breath inwards wasn’t as pleasant, however; they’d both be needing showers and fresh clothes real quick. The idea was as good as anything right then, so Emma began to strip for just that.

Ruby let out a low whistle, “Tell you to come up with a safe word and you start stripping on the spot… is this just for me, or can I share this information?”

“Its ‘cocoa’ and no, you can’t share it unless we’re tormenting someone with it.”

Ruby’s grin was mischief incarnate. “Oh? And who could we possibly torment with that?”

 _Killian._ “Graham… duh.”

Ruby hummed her response as Emma halted her hands on the final layer of clothes. She waited for the churning feeling that bathing had brought her before, of what being naked in front of Walsh had given her. It niggled, but didn’t persist. She looked up to Ruby, ready to apologize again for stopping the most normal banter they had managed since Emma had been found. But Ruby was turned around, giving Emma as much privacy as possible. Relief and shame battled for attention, she didn’t enjoy putting her best friend through this.

Ruby’s hand waved through the air in a move that was painfully reminiscent of Killian. “If you don’t hurry up, we’ll be forced to shower together to save time for dinner. Graham has a semi-formal set up for tonight to begin introducing you to the pack. You, me, him, his second, his third and his wife. We don’t have to dress fancy or anything, but we are expected.” She pointed to her left, “Bathroom is somewhere over there, towels should be in the closet. I’ll set out clean clothes for you to change into. I’m not leaving this room, and if you start having an episode, I can’t promise I’ll let you go through it alone–“

“Actually Ruby… would you mind sitting in the bathroom while I clean up? Talk to me during? When Walsh would… when he… I made a habit of going somewhere else in my head. Last thing I need to do is the same thing without a pole propping me up. And I want to get used to you being around me all the time again. Sooner rather than later.”

Ruby’s head dipped. “Of course Lemur. Just go get in the shower; I’ll be in there in a minute. I’ll put your clothes together and what not, then I’ll be there.”

Relief touched the peripherals of Emma’s anxiety, too many reasons available to pin down which one was the root. Not that it would have mattered anyway, it was what it was, and Emma was content to leave it as such. So she moved on to the shower, letting the water burn away what it could and sting what was left behind as a promise of times to come. Emma lost herself in the searing downpour, losing time with each billow of steam that puffed up around her. Two solid knocks barely registered before Ruby announced her entry to the room and the availability of the soaps Granny had made her use. Lemon still reminded her of fish dinners, but it was better than the baby powder Walsh enjoyed. Rolling in piles of shit would be better than that baby powder smell at this point. Emma scrubbed the soap everywhere she could reach while Ruby prattled on about nothing in particular, giving Emma the company she craved and the freedom of chosen isolation if she needed to retreat back in herself.

Ruby’s monologue cut off and the silence was louder than any dance club Ruby had dragged Emma off to. “Emma? Graham’s coming up. He’s going to freak when he smells his bedroom. Do you want me to run interference or are you ok with him stepping in here for a moment? Either option works for me, but he might be calmer if he can hear you speak rather than just take my word on it.”

“He can step in I think, as long as he stays on that side of the shower curtain.” On cue, Graham’s bedroom door opened and he bellowed her name after a halting few seconds. “In here with Ruby getting very wet!”

His footsteps that had been bee lining for the bathroom door stuttered to a stop. “Oh… um… are you two alright?”

Ruby was silent, so Emma plowed ahead with the old game, “I don’t know about her, but I’m feeling _really_ good right now.” A choking sound came from Ruby’s general direction and Emma figured her friend was struggling not to burst into laughter. “Would you like to come in Graham?”

Graham began muttering out a few curses mixed along calling out a few names of random saints. Emma knew this sign to mean she had really gotten to him, as he was the Protestant version of Irish. He took an audible deep breath, “Ruby, le haghaidh an grá Dia inis dom cad atá ar siul?”

Ruby lost her war and burst in a fit of giggles. “Vse normal’no Graham. U neye byl pristup paniki, kotoraya zakonchilas’ s yey rvotoy, tak chto ona v dushe, i ya ryadom. Bud’te blagodarny, chto ona ve yeshche mozhet nayti sebe dostatochno, chtoby igrat’ s vami.”

Emma stood straighter under the spray, “Ugh, you guys can use English; I’ve heard you do it. It’s very rude speaking in languages not everyone can speak you know!”

Ruby only laughed harder. “All clear Graham, if you feel brave enough.”

The door cracked, “I swear you two females will the the end of me. But seriously now, are you alright Emma?”

She sighed, getting the implication that her entire stay with Graham and Co. would be much of the same. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry I’m taking up your bathroom when you need to get ready too.”

Ruby scoffed, “There are plenty of bathrooms Emma, he’s fine.”

“Right, and as such, I need to be gathering my clothing and freshening up elsewhere. You’ll be taking my room for the first week Emma. No arguing.” The door shut without his giving and explanation.

“He really needs to come to terms that he can’t tell me what to do like that. At the very least figure out a better delivery system.” She shut off the water and dragged the towel behind the curtain with her. She might be more comfortable around Ruby than she thought with just bra and underwear, but naked wasn’t happening just yet.

Ruby rose and shuffled around in a cabinet, “Actually, with you officially under his care as Alpha, he can. You have to remember Emma; it’s his job to tell people what to do. Here and with his business, he doesn’t have a chance to turn it off ever. You have to start giving him a bit of slack with it. Just keep in mind that what he decides for you isn’t to hurt you or put you in your place. He takes over when he feels it’s his duty to protect and care for something or someone. Especially after everything that’s gone on, and not just what happened to you, there’s been trouble here too. Just… ease up on him and I’ll see how much of the chest thumping I can divert elsewhere.”

Emma stepped out of the shower with the towel wrapped tight and an eyebrow cocked up. “Hmm. Like maybe getting him to thump your chest instead?” Ruby’s mouth dropped open. “Pffft. Like I couldn’t tell you have the biggest ‘Hey Sailor’ eyes for him. I just never said anything because it seemed a bit one sided, and having _that_ shoved in your face just makes it all worse. Now the drive up here though, he kept inching his hand on the gearshift closer to you. And don’t think I didn’t notice that every time he checked his mirrors he stole a glance to you. When did that change?”

Ruby flushed… a strange anomaly. “I’m not entirely sure, sometime before you left for Brookside I think. But he hasn’t said a word about it, isn’t making a move either. I thought at first it was because you were still missing, but now… I just don’t know. Maybe I read him wrong.”

“Like hell.” Emma moved closer to Ruby, taking the hair dryer from her hands, “If _I_ need to remember that there’s a hierarchy here I have to somehow fit into, then _you_ need to remember that wolf or Alpha or CEO, Graham is still a _guy_. And an old fashioned one at that. He’s going to move slower than you like. Unless, of course, you just take the time to jump his bones.”

Ruby smiled. “You’re sure you’d be ok with it?”

That confused Emma for a moment. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ruby breathed deep. “With wolves, it isn’t as simple as all that. I know what my wolf wants of him, what I want… and if he doesn’t feel the same… mating is scarier than dating. Say we both feel the same and we choose each other, I would become his mate and have to move here. My duties would be here and to this pack. Would you be ok with me being here and not at Granny’s?”

“Mating… Walsh told me I’d be his mate. Snow and David and just about everyone at Brookside thought I was that to Killian. What does that mean exactly?”

Ruby shook her head. “I so don’t have enough time to go into the specifics of that one right now. Basically, think of it like a really intense marriage. Now, I still have your vomit all over me. Let me shower, we’ll get good and pretty, and then we can go down to dinner.”

“One more and I swear I’ll shut up for the next thirty minutes. Why am I sleeping in Graham’s bedroom? This place must have a spare room somewhere.”

“Scent marking. You’ll carry a trace of him on you because of it. It’ll keep anyone that might have a problem with you being here from trying anything. He isn’t claiming you as anything more than Pack, but it’s an easy way to say you belong to him on a more primal level. Will you be ok knowing that?”

 _You’re beginning to smell like me…_ Emma shuddered. “Not really. But who would have a problem with me here?”

“Folks who think you’ll paint a target on this pack by simply visiting. Purists who think a pack should be wolves only, no humans allowed –even as mates. There are a few opinions. Which they’re allowed to have, just not act on.”

“Right…”

Dinner (a wonderful steak dinner) was tense at first. Graham sat at its head with Emma to his left and a man named Quinn to his right. A man named Frederick was introduced as Graham’s third and sat next to Quinn, while Frederick’s wife and mate Abigail sat next to Emma. Ruby was placed at the foot of the table; this earned raised eyebrows from the married couple and a deep frown from the man named Quinn. Everyone ate slowly and quietly, shifting glances from one person to another as the tension grew. It was horrible. Emma knew everyone seated with her could eat five times this much before they felt truly full, and the glaring occasionally coming from Quinn was ruffling Emma’s figurative feathers. Obviously, they were all restraining themselves to be inclusive to Emma. Obviously, Emma was a source of contention in the Pack. Obviously, she should keep her head low and not try to incite any more problems for Graham.

Obviously, Emma spoke up with the most horrendous thing to say in such a situation.

“You know, the entire time I was in captivity, my rapist only cooked me red meat once. Never thought I’d miss the flavor of dead cow in my mouth so much.” She turned to Abigail, “So what do you do for a living?”

The woman in question was wide-eyed and mortified. “I… I’m a lawyer. I represent all three New York packs on retainer and sometimes help out other packs of the New England area.”

Emma whistled low through her teeth. “Well damn aren’t you a busy woman?” Emma turned her attention to Frederick, “And you hubby? What is it you do?”

He cleared his throat, looking to his wife before he answered. “I’m the P.E. teacher at the local Junior High. I coach its basketball and track teams too.”

It was Emma’s turn to raise her brows. “You mean your wife is the main provider? Wow. You don’t see many men ok with that, and from what I’ve gleaned, wolves can be worse about the dominance thing.”

Abigail beamed, “I might have the highbrow career, but my Frederick teaches children. You won’t find many wolves ok with being around children, they’re too unpredictable and emotional, they can set off the wolf within. It takes a strong wolf to not only keep control, but to make the children feel cared for instead of hunted. He makes a difference, I just make money.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile along with the woman. “I’m sure he’d say something about you helping whole packs of wolves if he wasn’t trying to hide behind his steak.” The woman’s cheeks tinged pink and Emma turned to Quinn. “So what is it you do?”

Quinn’s back straightened. “I’m second in this pack. It’s my job to run it when our Alpha has other business to do.”

“Ok… but what is your job? What do you do for money?”

“My _job_ is this pack. More so lately than ever, and I suppose I have you to thank for that job experience Ms. Swan. And should I welcome you to this pack too, or will you be just like our little Ruby and refuse us because we aren’t exactly what you want?”

Ruby and Graham growled in what was for Emma, surround sound. Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “Quinn… Qui– oh so you’re _that_ Quinn. Well that explains the tension in the air. But to answer your question: I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. While I’ve been granted the choice to live with one of three different packs, but I don’t have a choice to return to my old life or my home. I’ve just come from a serial killing rapist’s captivity where he wanted me to become the exact same thing The Council has told me to become. I’m still learning how wolves function –literally and mentally– and I have to say, _you_ aren’t making the impression any better.”

Quinn’s eyes shimmered an odd shade of yellow for a moment. “There are wolves in this pack that don’t like the idea of you being here. Human and a female that one of us will be forced in mating with. I have to say, your words aren’t making that concept any better.”

Emma gave him her best sarcastic smile. “I guess that means you’re out of the running then? Darn, I was hoping I could score the most idiotic of the lot.”

He returned her smile. “If you’re anything like our Ruby, it wouldn’t last long anyway. You’d just fuck your way up the command chain just to pout when the top dog wasn’t interested.”

The steak knife flew before Emma had figured out she had thrown it. It didn’t have far to go, and still nearly pierced Quinn’s eye as it slid to the handle through Graham’s outstretched left hand. The room stopped as blood dripped to the tablecloth. Emma kept her sight trained on Quinn while he was distracted with his Alpha’s hand protecting him from temporarily blindness. Graham used the distraction to his advantage as his right hand formed a fist and cold clocked his second in command. Bones broke, and Emma saw a few teeth fall from his mouth as he tipped over towards Frederick and fell from his chair. Graham twisted the knife from his hand, letting it plonk on his plate. He rose and pulled Quinn from the floor, pushing him by the throat against the closest wall. Abigail’s hand reached over to Emma’s to give a quick squeeze; not letting go as Graham spoke.

“You will keep your behavior to gentleman’s standards with **_ANY_** female of this pack, temporary or more so. I hear so much as a whisper about you damning a woman’s choice in partner or her frequency in said choice, I will bust your rank down to living toilet for visiting wolves for letting similar filth leave your mouth. Emma Swan has had the worst introduction to our kind imaginable, and yet she’s still here trying to make the best of it. Ruby is here as her guardian and _both_ are here as my personal guests regardless of Council decree. Am I clear so far?”

Quinn’s head tilted sideways, “Yes Alpha.”

Graham’s hand let go of Quinn’s neck. “I understand how trying everything has been here recently, and the strain you have been put under to keep this pack together. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed. The winds will settle again, and we can go back to our normal routines soon, but none of this has anything to do with Emma or Ruby. What Anita did would have happened with or without me here, she simply chose a time when I wouldn’t be around in hopes of a more successful venture. Place blame where it’s due.”

Quinn nodded, “Yes Alpha. Might I be excused from dinner then?”

“Probably for the best.” Graham took a step backwards. Quinn cast one more look to Ruby, one that was far sadder than what he had implied just moments before. More clicked into place, and Emma almost felt sorry for digging at him as she had. Almost. Graham sighed as Quinn made a quick exit, retaking his chair at the head of the table. He looked to Emma this time, a temper of a golden hue still in his eyes, but his words soft and gentle. “Now you. What he said was vile and I’m almost proud that knife flew so quickly. But he’s right too. There are members of this pack that would rather you leave. There was some sort of coup that happened just after you were attacked and I was staying there at Granny’s. It was Quinn that kept this pack from falling apart under the woman that initiated it, and there are still some who feel she had the better idea of a wolves only pack. Most of the rest just feel that you being here is one more thing to deal with when things are still unstable. You can’t go antagonizing just anyone like that. In fact, I would tell you not to antagonize anyone at all, but I’d have an easier time telling Ruby to abandon you. If anyone gives you trouble, bring it to Freddy, Abby, Ruby, or myself. Even Quinn once he calms down. I can assure you, he’s a good man; he’s just had a rough few weeks too.”

Emma locked eyes with Graham (a habit she couldn’t seem to break). “I don’t like what he said about Ruby.”

Graham grinned wide. “Why else do you think I let the knife fly at all?”

Killian could feel her as he drove his way back to Brookside. Her emotions swung like a crystal hung from a string, but each time they swung back to the center, he felt honest moments of happiness. She was healing, faster than if he had rushed back to her side instead of taking this job. She was better off without him right now. How much could she heal when he was still broken too? If simply being in the same room could spark memories too dark to see through? This was the only thing that kept his wolf from wrenching the wheel to turn the vehicle around and get to her side; a weak excuse at best, but Killian would cling to anything that would keep Emma Swan safe, even from him.

He would be overloaded with females in the months to come anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A google translate problem. It seems the program is defaulting to the masculine inclinations of what I put in, regardless of what I put in. There are scores of other translation programs free on the internet, but they would all have various sources of input. What translates on google, might be something different from another translator. So I'm choosing to stick with what I have been using, if only for consistency. Graham speaks Irish, Ruby is using Russian (well the English phonetic Russian). 
> 
> Ruby’s Russian for the Translator: Все нормально. У нее был приступ паники, которая закончилась с ее рвотой, так что она в душе, и я рядом. Будьте благодарны, что она все еще может найти себе достаточно, чтобы играть с вами.


	30. Goldilocks and the Three Alphas… Too Quiet

**Chapter 29**

**Goldilocks and the Three Alphas… Too Quiet**

* * *

Time at New York Trinity North was… interesting. Abigail and Ruby were diligent in making sure Emma didn't hide away (regardless of how often she tried) in her bedroom –which ended up being right next door to Graham's. They took her out about the town for however long Emma could handle it. There were the typical trips to storefronts and such to acquaint Emma with what was nearby, more traditional trips to local museums and hole in the wall eateries that only a seasoned local would know about. They even got ballsy enough one day to do a drive by of Beyoncé's house. Then there was a trip to Abigail's office, formally drawing up paperwork to include Emma in her client list. Emma tried to object until it was explained that once she picked a pack, it was mostly likely going to be under Abigail's firm anyway. They won Emma over when they consented to keeping a file just for her, separate from pack or mate she might ever pick.

Quinn approached two weeks after the introductory dinner armed with an intense detailing of the attempted hostile takeover he thwarted. Not an excuse nor an apology _("I'd take back the words if I could Emma Swan, but this pack is everything to me, and it can't take much more hardship."_ ) he emphasized, but an explanation to his seemingly aggressive behavior. Words later reinforced during some light physical therapy with Frederick _("What do you want me to say Emma, I don't like being still."_ ) as he explained Graham's duties now included either submitting Change of Pack papers to The Council for those unwilling to stay, and reasserting his dominance and control over the ones that did. Which apparently meant lots of fighting. _Actual fighting._ Not even a simple boxing match to settle scores; these were all out brawls. And as Graham's guest and a future mate to lord-knows-who, Emma was required to attend the ones that had him specifically fighting. It was slow, but Emma began to see how she was the proverbial straw about to break the camel's back in this house, and while she probably wouldn't ever forgive him his comments about Ruby, Emma understood Quinn's outburst as he struggled to keep his home.

(Something she conveyed by sliding him her portion of bacon one morning at breakfast.)

(He accepted by placing a strip back on her plate.)

(Some communications are done best without words at all.)

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, the pack was functioning together better as a whole, and the dirty looks shot Emma's way in the beginning were all but gone. Though any remaining ones were typically handled with a quick smack up the back of their heads as either Ruby, Abigail, Frederick, or Quinn caught them. The pack was solid again as the full moon came about, and the pack played rounds of capture the flag in wolf form under the silver glow. Ruby had eased up the shadowing enough to allow Emma the privacy of falling asleep alone in their shared bedroom, but that night Emma stayed awake so she could ask Ruby the insane amounts of questions she had from only being able to watch from the window, Ruby didn't come for Emma to ask. When Ruby didn't show up even an hour later, Emma resolved to go looking, hoping she wasn't breaking some unknown rule.

(She found Ruby right after she opened her bedroom door.)

(Well, she found Ruby because she heard Ruby behind Graham's bedroom door.)

(She was equally disgusted and happy for Ruby.)

Christmas was on the horizon, and though Emma had managed to emotionally and mentally heal enough to accept the company of just about anyone, and minor touches from a certain few, Emma had developed a worrisome reaction to Graham. After only a few nights of the three of them curling up for movies, they realized his casual touches sparked her blackouts. Emma tried to force herself to be around him as much as possible, going as far as to initiate just about any form of touch she could manage. She refused to let her stupid brain make him suffer, refused to let him go more than she already had during this stupid ordeal. Graham, however, maintained his distance from Emma as much as he was able. It took a group session with Archie to enlighten them all to something they didn't want to hear. Graham being a male was triggering Emma; a common association between trauma and victim. He was also from _before_ , as Emma had repeatedly shown a visceral need to keep untainted. He had also gone out of his way during her original attack to handle Emma's life. Even though his intentions weren't remotely the same as Walsh's, it was still enough compounding together that Emma's subconscious couldn't handle the load. Similarly to her first blackout in Granny's den, her mind was overwhelmed with being free, being home, and corrupting her good memories with new bad ones. ( _"Your brain is trying to protect itself Emma. We all need safe havens to escape to, and your mind is unwilling to sacrifice the few it has."_ )

It was her first proper breakdown. Knowing it wasn't just men, or touching, but that Walsh had stolen away everything that she had called home since she first wandered into Granny's diner. She may eventually heal past these blackouts with her efforts, or she might push herself into worse. Archie left and she couldn't stop apologizing to Ruby and Graham between body racking sobs, something that pulled Quinn from whatever wall he had sprung from to sit on the floor at Emma's feet. His eyes burned citrine like Graham's, but he said nothing, keeping her eyes locked on his until the sobs quieted down to hiccups. ( _"Protect your home. Protect your pack."_ )

(Ruby was Emma's home.)

(Graham was Emma's pack.)

(Archie approved an early transfer to the Nomadic Pack of North America starting with the new year.)

* * *

The existing tension between Ruby and the Nomadic Alpha's mate was a momentary cause for concern. Ruby wasn't sure she would be able to respect the woman's authoritative position while trying to keep Emma sane. It was in a deep blush later in private that Ruby confessed that she wasn't eager to leave Graham's side now that things had developed to a certain point. Emma understood, if she had a choice, she wouldn't have left the comfort of a bed two months earlier. So Emma did the only thing she could do. She reached out and hugged her friend –through the shivers and panicked breaths that it caused. ( _"This hasn't been an easy time on you either; you deserve to have a break, even from me."_ ) It earned her a few growling sounds from Ruby and Graham –and a few from the pack gathered to say their good-byes– but no one argued the point either. Quinn –in wolf form– ran alongside the SUV to the estate gates, howling her departure. The gesture sticking in her throat enough that the drive out of New York lost its customary effect.

The full moon was on the rise once again, which meant Emma would be spending a few days at Brookside while the Nomadic Pack handled themselves and she was tucked safely behind secure doors. Not that she'd be in any real danger, but she hadn't spent any time with those wolves and Robin wanted to make sure no mistakes were made. It was fine, Emma wasn't all that eager to be around the unfamiliar yet either. Short and bald (He introduced himself as Leroy and with a smile that was scarier than his scowl) escorted her to the same room she had before. It still smelled of sandalwood and lavender. Emma indulged herself with a dramatic flop onto the bed, breathing the scent deep. It felt odd to admit how much she doubted the bedroom, or its smell, existed after her time with Walsh, but it wouldn't be any less true. It was one less mental stress for Emma, however silly it seemed.

"There you are! I told David you were more the type to lounge in bed rather than dropping your things and heading straight for the kitchen." Snow giggled, "You just got me another twenty bucks."

Emma arched up, bracing back on her elbows –which nearly slipped right back out from under her. It was Mary Margaret all right, but the version in the painting Emma had first seen, not the older woman Emma remembered. She knew her jaw was slack and open, knew she was staring… but what else was she to do?

Snow sighed, "I know. I pulled a Benjamin Button on you. I'm sorry about the shock of it, but really, how else would it have gone?" She came and sat on the bed near Emma's knees. "I was dying Emma. Uterine cancer, I finally had it in remission too, but it decided to make an aggressive comeback a few weeks before you showed up at our door. The ball was originally to mark my last night as a human, but then Killian got in touch, and suddenly it seemed like a ridiculous idea to celebrate such a thing. Your survival, bringing the packs together under such a noble cause… _you_ were a better thing to celebrate."

Emma felt her face burn, "I don't know about that, I screwed it up anyway. I made such a huge mistake."

Mary Margaret's hand squeezed Emma's knee. "Don't think like that. You reacted to information given without proper context. August meant well, but he didn't tell you the other half of what becoming a wolf's mate could be."

Emma eyed the woman, "Yeah… in fact nobody has. As soon as I ask, I get told it's a long complicated story. Any chance that can be remedied before I'm married off?"

Mary Margaret smiled, "A long sit down with plenty of wine, I promise. But not right now. It's a full moon, and emotions run high for wolves then. When it's your turn to be here with us, I'll tell you anything you like."

"What's it like? Being a werewolf I mean."

"It's different… nothing like I thought, and I _grew up_ in the life. I'm still learning, still getting a grip on the new sensations and how to interpret them. And sharing your headspace with something so primal takes getting used to. I like to think I chose this because I have a legacy to uphold, but the wolf makes me _a lot_ more honest, even with myself. The reality was, I was scared to die. Scared to leave my son behind, scared of leaving David… scared of becoming so sick. And even though I knew what taking the Change would entail, I really _REALLY_ didn't know a damn thing. It's like learning how to walk and talk and grow up all over again. But I chose this path; I have to take the pains with the pleasures."

Emma hummed, unable to admit how on the nose Mary Margaret was for both of them. "How about we head to the kitchen and avoid David on the way down? You can use your super smell and hearing to help us out maneuver him, and I can raid the fridge. You still get your twenty dollars and the chance to make him fluster a bit that he was so close to being right and still missed."

Mary Margaret grinned big enough that some elusive dimples revealed themselves. "A woman after my own heart."

* * *

Taking the extra precaution to let the moon's affects wear off his wolves, Robin ( _Hood, holy shit I'll be camping in the woods with Robin Hood_ ) came to pick Emma up three days later in an ancient jeep the size of a small elephant. Much to Emma's surprise, the famous King of Thieves was a hugger. Opening his arms for everyone –even Leroy. Until he came to stand in front of Emma. She braced for it, for the shakes that would follow, but his arms remained at his sides as his hands slid into his pockets. His hip popped to one side and his gaze took her in from the crown of her head to the soles of her boots. His brow furrowed and he bit his lip, shifting to walk a slow circle around her. Her spine straightened when he held his position behind her a moment longer than she felt necessary; her hands balled into fists when she felt him shift closer to her. Nothing happened, and he finished his circuit to stand in front of her again. Emma was all but ready to throw the rules out the window and get back inside the manor to call Granny on his pompous ass.

But he flashed a smile, straightening a leg in front of him with a low bow. "Milady Swan, you have lost far too much weight." He came back up and leaned in close, speaking so low she was barely able to hear him. "You'll not be touched until you've given leave, by me or any of mine. And not a soul shall stand behind you, not until you've given your trust. No one within my pack will repeat the offenses of that monster. You have my oath on it."

It was still a dumb habit, and one Emma swore she'd break someday soon, but she looked him in the eyes. She had to see him with his words. One eye was human, one was wolf, and both were allowing her the chance to validate the truth he spoke in whatever way she could. To say the innate fear of the unknown she had been trying to stuff down into a deep dark hole dropped with a thud to the dirt beneath her, would be the same as saying something as obvious as a compliment to Killian's good looks. But she wasn't a talker (not unless she was shouting at someone) so as she had with Quinn, she chose a simple small action to lead with.

Emma tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck, as she had seen so many of them do.

Mary Margaret let out with a small gasp. Leroy whistled through his teeth. Robin cupped her cheek, righting her head to its upright position. His thumb brushed the apple of her cheek before he pulled her in for a one armed hug.

"Keep your head up, keep your fire, and take your time. But if someone were to ask me right this moment, I would tell them that you would be just fine." He pulled away, letting his hand trail down to her own, only to bring it up to rest on the crook of his elbow. He raised his voice to more socially appropriate levels, "Come then Emma, let us away to Sherwood Forest where you can meet my band of Merry Men."

Emma was still laughing as he pulled down the drive and away from Brookside.

* * *

They were off road when she finally asked him how he managed to own a vehicle when he's supposed to be the type to get up and move camp.

His smile was wide and playful, "You're right; owning a car of any sort would make my lifestyle a bit awkward. Travel would certainly be easier, but where would I store such a thing? However, _borrowing_ a car, now that's the best of both worlds isn't it? Especially when one considers the passenger's most recent injuries."

Emma shot him what she hoped was a disbelieving look. "You _stole_ this thing?"

Robin scoffed. "Of course not! Stealing is against the law, and despite the rumors to my character, I do obey the law." He looked over with a mischievous smirk and a wink, "Which is why I borrowed it."

Emma hummed. "How long until we get to where we're going?"

He chuckled, "Not long. When we get there, I'll walk you around and point out the highlights. It isn't much, but it suits those of us that need more open spaces than modern living can provide."

Emma looked to him, "Meaning?"

"Well, I've become the unofficial host to wolves that have shown themselves to be more wolf than man. Troubled for whatever personal reasons they have, and need the wolf to be in charge more than what we normally accept. They aren't dangerous or broken, just need more work than most Alphas can handle. Some stay with me, some move on when they've come to terms with things. I will warn you, there are two wolves that have been with me for a long time. Their names even worked their way into the same folklore that surrounds me."

"Oh tell me one of them is the Sherriff of Nottingham and I get to see you boss him around."

Robin barked out a laugh. "Oh now _there's_ an image. I'm sure having that ponce as one of my own would be entertaining, but no. It's John and Will."

"Little John and Will Scarlet?"

His laughter continued. "Kevin Costner had it right making John a big man. Something we've teased as long as the books have existed."

"What about Friar Tuck and the Maid Marian?"

Robin's face fell and he grimaced. "The good Friar was a man of God, and as such, wanted to live and die the man God had made him. He was the first human we revealed ourselves to who didn't try to form a lynch mob or just outright run away screaming. He said that every creature was made by God, even the ones demonized by the Church. That it was man that who condemned us and our judgement would be at the Pearly Gates, not at his feet. He was a good man." He breathed in and out a few times before continuing. "Marian was my wife, my mate. She wasn't supposed to be. She was intended to the Sherriff as some of the stories imply, a match made by her parents and not for love. But that was common back then. There was a night where I had to steal a horse from her father's stable, don't ask me why, I've long since forgotten. I think I forgot it as soon as she surprised me with a pitchfork to my neck. I had been so focused on keeping the horse quiet and not reacting to the fact that I was a predator, that I hadn't heard her approach. I hadn't even been able to smell her. She was just suddenly there with a weapon that couldn't hurt me other than a puncture wound or two. I hadn't felt the pull to have a mate before that moment; my wolf seems to enjoy a female that isn't scared of it. I couldn't stay away from her. I didn't care how I had her in my life, so long as she was there in some capacity. Eventually, it was love, and she broke off the engagement to run off with me. I showed her my wolf then, trying to scare her off, not wanting to bind her to my world. But that stubborn woman just reached out and scratched my head like I was some regular hound."

Emma stayed quiet while he took a break from his story. The similarities hitting home without her wanting them to. The hole inside her gapped wider for its missing piece.

"Werewolves weren't as aware then as we are now to the problems of miscarriage between human and wolf mates. Each one broke her more and more. And then there was a miracle, one pregnancy that seemed to hold on. Marian was ecstatic, insisting it was a boy, and that we had to name it for her grandfather. She was seven months along when she became ill. I lost them both the next month, harsh winter and..." He wiped a hand over his face, "That's when the feud between the Sherriff and I began. You see, weak man that he was, he actually had a soft spot for Marian. So long as she was well and happy with me, he left the sting of her broken betrothal remain a sting. When he learned of her death, he held me personally responsible and did everything he could to bring me in as a traitor to the crown. It was the good friar that kept me from going insane."

Emma stopped him, "What do you mean 'insane'?"

"Wolves mate for life Emma. Werewolves are no different. You've learned by now that there's some magic to being a wolf, yes?" She nodded for him to continue. "Well, part of that magic lies in the bonds that connect us as Pack. Mates share a special link just between them. When Marian died with the child, I lost that link, both of the links. I felt them fall away from me, bit by bit. Think of it like a limb just disconnecting and dropping to the ground. But you feel every fiber of it breaking as it does so. And just like a lost limb, you feel the phantoms of it long after, the missing piece that used to make you whole. The pain of it can drive anyone to bedlam, and a werewolf has so much at its disposal to become a very destructive force."

"But you have a mate now? You must have eventually gotten around it." Blunt Emma might be, but she wasn't so insensitive to accuse him of getting over his mate dying a pregnant woman.

"Aye, I have a mate now. But that's only been the last fifteen years Emma. I held onto Marian's loss _that_ long. At first I assumed it was my wolf tired of being alone, now though, I wonder that we were just waiting for a woman that would keep me in place. Marian would get a kick out of that I think."

"Will I get to meet her? Your current mate?"

Robin grinned. "She'll be the one you interact with most. She's got it in her head that you need proper tutelage on how to live in a pack, and not even I will be able to do it the right way. She'll be upfront with everything, even a bit abrasive with some details. Just keep in mind, she's actually trying to help you, she's just got the 'tough love' and 'sink or swim' version of helping."

* * *

The camp was Spartan. Tents scattered where they pleased to put them, but all centered around a large hole in the center. Ash covered stone circled it, marking the bonfire from the night before. A larger than necessary tent stood proudly nearby. Robin pointed to it, claiming it as his own, laughing again when Emma asked if was compensation for something else. He led her passed it, to a small grouping of trees enclosing a tent that still held the folds from the box it had been packaged in.

"This is yours. Close enough to us that you aren't alone, but away enough to give you the idea of seclusion. Pillows, blankets, a chest for your clothes, and a lantern for moving about in the dark. You have a mattress within, something my mate design herself. Its memory foam of a few different densities. Cot sized so it doesn't become bulky or cumbersome, but perfect for someone recovering from injuries. We have quite a few in the infirmary tent now, and she's got ideas to sell the design to Coleman. Amazing head for business that woman, I'll be the richest homeless man alive." He laughed to his own joke and Emma could only just stare at him. "As it is, I have to go talk to the Pack about your arrival, so I'll be leaving you in the care of my mate for the rest of the afternoon. Just remember what I told you at Brookside, no one touches you and no one gets to stand behind you without your consent. Let no one into your tent, no one gets to touch it either without your consent. Should any of mine break those rules, I want you to protest loudly against it, either myself or my mate will come to deal with him directly."

Emma cringed. "Have a few guys that don't like the word no then?"

"Nothing like that Emma. But these are males that listen to the more primal natures within, they aren't around women very often, and they all understand that your integration means a pairing. Many of them will see you as a chance to a fulfillment they wouldn't normally get. None of them will hurt you –though if any of them get the tiniest bit forceful, you're under orders to report it immediately– but I can see many of them trying hard to win your affections."

Emma huffed, "Right. What about bathrooms? Showers?"

Robin led her back to the main tent, "I'll let my mate cover those topics. She's just inside; her name is Regina, welcome to the Nomads."

* * *

The inside was swanky, if tents could be such things. (The damn thing had rooms and furniture for fuck's sake.) Rugs and pillows were everywhere, giving Emma the idea that she was out on safari more than the forests near the Canadian border. But it carried the same warm feeling as Granny's den; comfort and family echoing off the fabric walls. Still, Emma remained near the opening, unsure of herself in new surroundings. A woman strode from behind a fabric wall, dressed in casual loungewear and looking more like she was from the Upper East Side than a wolf that lived in the woods. Dark hair and familiar dark eyes, a face pulled into a frown, and hands wringing in front of her stomach as the only true tell to any hitch of authority. The part of her brain that niggles somewhere in the back began its dance even though Emma hadn't a clue as to why. The elegant woman glanced down to her hands, growling in anger to their insubordination.

Her hands clenched with her eyes as she heaved a breath in and out. Then it was all gone as she straightened an air of detached professionalism settled on the woman like a gauze shroud; head to toe coverage and only letting the slightest image of the true person beneath seep through. Her hand gestured to the chairs nearby, "Have a seat Miss Swan. We have a few things to cover before dinner."

Emma did as she's asked, barely letting her weight affect what could only be upscale deck furniture; her legs were tingling with the need to run again. The woman's eyes tracked over Emma's features, taking in God knows what information. It's familiar and not so Emma did the thing she shouldn't, she sasses the person who could kill her in a second. "I've called the cops on guys who looked at me with intensity lady."

The woman snapped her eyes to Emma's, blinking once for the interruption. "Good."

Emma sighed. This was going nowhere fast and patience wasn't something Emma was much good at. "Ok, so this will be rude, but who are you?"

The woman blinked once more, this time showing her confusion. "Who? My name is Regina; I'm Robin's mate. I know I heard him tell you I was in here."

Emma nodded, "He told me his mate Regina was in here. You didn't introduce yourself as her. I'm not one to make assumptions on people much these days."

A series of clicks could be seen happening behind the dark eyes, the woman identifying as Regina tilting her chin up against her own mistake. "Of course. Tell me Miss Swan, do you recognize me at all?"

The need to run had Emma's leg bouncing in place. Regina's words leading to all sorts of endings Emma didn't want. "You must have one of those faces."

Regina's face morphed again to one of disappointed disgust. "Lying like that in a Pack can get you killed Miss Swan. I was there at the home of Mr. Singe when you made your escape; I was the wolf with the Rotty coloring. I'm also the one that contained the flames you started. Tell me, were you trying to burn down the forest or was that just a bonus?"

Any color Emma had in her voice or skin pooled to her feet. "I was trying to hurt the guy that burned his logo into my thigh. I didn't care if I took down the forest –or myself– in the process. I still don't."

Something akin to pride flittered across Regina's features. "Well it burned down alright. Just a pile of ash and soot there now. If you'd like, you and I can make a trek up there so you can see for yourself. When you're ready to close that part of your life."

The bouncing drive to run ebbed in the face of confronting that house again. "Maybe." It was all Emma could offer.

Regina's eyes shifted to over Emma's shoulder, her pale skin losing even more tone for a moment. "Miss Swan… _Emma…_ in the interest of your health and trust, I'm going to be as honest with you as I am with Robin. Now, and for as long as you're with the wolves."

Emma snorted. "That's refreshing. Most people have been nothing but cagey with me."

Regina breathed deep holding up a finger in warning. "Don't praise it yet. My name is Regina Mills. Cora was my biological mother."

Emma's vision faltered. Regina became painfully clear as the world pulled away into a smeared blur. Sounds faded under the rush of blood to her ears, and the salty flavor of fish flooded her mouth as saliva gathered to prepare the way. The world blinked out, only coming back as Emma's back roared its pain at her stomach heaving its contents just outside the tent flaps. Her lungs burned, her stomach clenched, her muscles all over spasmed as she came back to her body. She took her time setting herself to rights. Not sure if she could trust the woman that could cause such a reaction and not do a thing to help.

Emma used the back of her hand to wipe away the spittle and sick, keeping her eyes to the trees instead of chancing another moment away from her body. "Oh what the fuck… why? Why can't I have just one place where that asshole isn't?"

"I suppose that's a fair reaction. He did horrible things to you, and mostly under my mother's orders. I, however, am not my mother." Emma finally turned to meet the woman again. The dark eyes, she should have known by those dark eyes. "If the moment is appropriate, I might even tell you a few stories of what that woman considers 'mothering' someday. But for now, we should press on with life here –or wherever we might be camping. You need to heal from your ordeal, but you also need to learn your new life. You weren't healing from your ordeal while you were with Graham, so we're going to try to get you dealing with your new life. In this pack, you'll have duties like everyone else. You will shadow a pack member learning these duties and how the pack functions until you feel capable handling yourself alone. Don't have pride and try to deal with things before you're ready, a small mistake can have very serious consequences out here. You'll dine with Robin and myself until all three of us decide that you are able to handle yourself against the advances of very single werewolf males. At any time, should you feel uncomfortable with any of the males –or even the occasional female– you are to bring it up to me or Robin immediately. I will not tolerate the backwards behavior some wolves cling to about a woman and her 'place'. Are we clear so far Miss Swan?"

Emma breathed, wondering how the hell she was supposed to trust the fruit of that bitch's loins. She couldn't was the obvious answer. But that made it easier in its own right. She could start from square one with this lady; build her own opinions. A real fresh start, even if the price tag was a bunch of lonely men and peeing in the woods. "Clear and honest? I'm not sure what I think of you, and my gut can't make up its mind either. You seem the type to kill folks if you had motivation enough."

Regina's dark eyes hardened. "Proper motivation can drive anyone to murder Miss Swan. You of all people should be sympathetic to that."

Emma tilted her head, "Yeah, but I get the idea that it would take less to motivate you than it would most people."

The woman pursed her lips. Anger pulling her fingers into fists and closing her eyes. "You're probably right. However, you've been given to us to instruct and protect. I take my responsibilities very seriously. We all have sins to atone for Miss Swan, though I'm done paying for my mother's. Will you be able to look passed hers to live here?"

Emma shrugged, looking around the room and at nothing in particular. "Why not? Not like I have much of a choice in the matter."

Regina growled softly. "Of course you have a choice. And you've demonstrated quite plainly to the world how far you'll go to invoke it. Now, come along. We have a lot of ground to cover before supper. And if you don't prove yourself to be completely incompetent as a human –which considering your escape would be highly disappointing– I might let you meet Roland."

* * *

Killian had forgotten how much he hated New Orleans. Probably because once he was gone, he only had fond memories. It was the magic of the place, forgetting the humidity and the stench of swamp and marsh and piss and vomit, for the pleasure of mixed cultures influenced by a French _joie de vie_ and superstitious natures. As it was, he'd do as he always does and love it much later under reflection. Currently, he was more preoccupied with his wolf tugging at him again, not something it had done for a couple months yet, but something still as strong now as it was the last time. He knew the pull, or rather, what he was being pulled to. And if he weren't deadly sure of his target's current path, he'd be scrambling on the next flight north simply to watch from the trees to assure her safety. Whatever had her pulling on him this time had to bad to reach him at such a distance, and he was left to keeping faith in those he left in charge of her care. The Council may have made the decision, but any decision he didn't find suitable would have meant bugger all; Emma Swan wouldn't be forced into anything less than what could make her happy, and Killian Jones wouldn't leave her to the Fates with a bunch of thumb-sitting arseholes.

He held his wolf in, taking the pull as an assurance that she lived still. Until it passed and he was left feeling the emptiness where that tether should be.

"Killian? Did you hear a word I said?"

Killian blinked at his contact, "Sorry mate… I uh… thought I heard something. Forgive my rudeness."

The man waved him off, "Nah… I know that look. Used to see if on the face of an old friend of mine when he spoke of his 'Evangeline'. You've a lady friend back home waitin' huh?"

Naveen might be a good man and friend, but Killian wasn't in the mood to discuss what Emma might be to him; he didn't have that kind of time. "No."

Naveen smiled, "Sure you don't. And I'm the Shadowman. One more time, then I'm not sayin' another word. Mama Odie had that wolf-witch for a time, but the woman got away. Mama Odie said she tracked the woman's magic with a blood spell –don't ask me how she got enough blood to pull that. The woman is headed southwest, cutting through Texas down into Mexico."

Killian sighed. "My companions won't be happy with that."

Naveen laughed, "Yeah? Well you tell your companions they are welcome to a couple of my wife's beignets after everything's done. You too, hear? And maybe when everything is settled for you, you bring your lady friend down this way. I'd very much like to meet the woman who can turn the head of Killian Jones from so far away."

"Go blow your bugle _highness_."

Naveen pulled Killian for a two-tap hug, laughing merrily as he did so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay, busy and tired this week. And there was another project that needed my attention. Keep an eye out for something else to appear in my story lists.
> 
> For those of you who have expressed boredom or loss of interest, I encourage you to move on from this story. I'm not changing what it is to satisfy your reading desires. The "advice" a couple of you have given, isn't actually advice, but personal preferences and opinions. I acknowledge you no longer enjoy this fic, and I'm ok with that. You are entitled to those thoughts. But continuing to read, just to tell me how unhappy you are currently with it, is downright rude and ill mannered. I'm also ok with the loss of readership when it culls out said behavior. I wish you well in your fic reading adventures.
> 
> For the rest of you, This fic ends around chapter 32/33. For definite. Almost there.


	31. Close the Book and Fuck the Fairytales

**Chapter 30**

**Close the Book and Fuck the Fairytales**

* * *

The first few weeks Emma spent with the Nomads were spent in the shadow of Regina Mills. It wasn't a place Emma necessarily enjoyed being, the woman was blunt and self-righteous with a hair trigger temper you could see her actively reel in every time it flared. Emma was able to sympathize with the woman on a level or two, having to boss around semi-feral men out in the woods, but the association Regina held with Cora and Walsh was enough to make Emma wary of engaging in anything beyond the cordial. It was equally felt, if Emma was reading the lady right. Regina kept herself distant from any familiarities between them in an effort to keep herself guarded to Emma's judgments. It's what Emma would have done in her place, so Emma went with her gut. It felt like a shoulder height wall between neighbors: able to see each other over the top, but neither making a move to visit the other side. Emma wasn't sure if she wanted to keep that wall or not. But then Regina would keep the curious men at bay with a glare and a growl, and Emma would shush the voice in her head whispering, "Run". It was during this introductory time that Regina enforced a strict schedule: breakfast in the morning, walking the camp in confusing circles while Regina touched base with the wolves individually, lunch in the tent, studying books on the various poisonous and edible fungus and fauna in the area (complete with a test after), personal time, supper, then communal gathering around the fire pit before Emma was allowed to retire to her tent for the night. There weren't any pack duties for Emma yet as she was only allowed to follow around the would-be-queen of the forest. At some point –though she wasn't sure when, Emma became the personal assistant to the woman, taking notes and orders from her as they made rounds through camp; it was unbearably familiar however. And yes, Emma wanted to scream and wave her arms that she wasn't an invalid nor a pet nor incapable of using her brain. (Eventually, she was going to have to find out the root to this perception wolves seemed to take up with her.) But if Emma was to be honest (even if only to herself), she would acknowledge that the semi servitude she had been avoiding since the beginning let her feel free in a way she hadn't seen coming. Any reason she discovered that required her to think was taken care of for her, denying her the need altogether. Something she found herself grateful for when she knew any actual thinking she attempted would result in thinking about had happened. And what hadn't. Emma wasn't sure which route would be worse.

A morning came where after the usual rounds through camp, and in a manner that Emma had come to expect from Regina Mills, Emma was passed of rather suddenly to a very large man (another Hagrid impersonator). "Emma? This is John. John will be teaching you a few skills needed for survival out in the woods. You will be tested on the things he shows you, so I recommend paying attention over your usual mutterings you think I can't hear."

(Actually, Emma wasn't stupid enough to forget that wolves have super hearing. She did it just to annoy the lady.)

"I just don't see why I have to be tested all the time. This isn't grade school."

Regina's shoulders went rigid and Emma knew the woman was wrestling with her temper again. Then she moved with movements too quick for Emma to track properly; stepping to a nearby tree, ripping something from its base, and returning with it held in front of Emma's face. "Eat this."

Emma startled, "What?"

"You heard me Miss Swan. Eat this."

Emma took a step back. "Hell no."

A brow curved slowly up on her forehead, "And why not?"

Emma scoffed, "Because it's poisonous."

Regina's mouth ticked, "What makes you think that?"

Emma raised her hand and gestured to the mushroom in Regina's hand, "White mushroom, with yellow and yellowish-orange spots on the cap. Orange Fly Arugula or something. The toxins work like PCP."

Regina sighed, "Yellow-Orange Fly Agaric. And the toxin is a mild hallucinogenic that suppresses the fear response in the brain. But yours was close enough." She brought the flat-capped mushroom closer for inspection. "It's out of season, but that doesn't detract from the effects, in fact it probably makes it worse."

Emma looked to John and then back to Regina. "So why were you trying to make me eat it?"

Regina huffed and tossed the fungus to the trees it came from. "I wasn't trying to make you eat it Miss Swan, I was proving a point. Did you know that mushroom was poisonous before I made you study?"

"Well, no…"

Regina looked triumphantly smug, "I see. Well then I'll leave you to learn a few things from John here. Perhaps with it being more tactile, you'll pay closer attention. I'll see you at supper."

Regina strode away leaving Emma gapping and John fidgeting. The sounds of camp filtered back to Emma's ears, reminding her that she was left alone with a male. A very large, bearded male. Without craning her head back, or being overly obvious about it, she took in what she could of her new companion. While she had noticed him along the edges of camp, and often walking off with Robin in whatever various direction they took that day, up close was more… _interesting_. Hell, large was barely the appropriate word for him, the palms of his hands could cover her entire face. The idea that the guy turned into a wolf now and then sent a shiver up and down Emma's spine.

John shifted on his feet, visibly uncomfortable with how the introductions were handled and how Emma was left to deal with it. "I'm not… Look, I know my size can be alarming, but I'm not one of the wolves with aggression issues. Robin wouldn't have trusted me with you if I were, especially not this soon with the pack. And frankly, Regina can be creative in punishing wolves that get out of line. So if it's all the same to you, tell me if something I say or do is something you don't like or can't deal with when I say or do it. Because I'd prefer just getting through this with my tendons intact."

Emma jumped slightly, "She slices the tendons!?"

John shrugged. "Wolf healing speeds things up, it's fixed within the hour. But it's still tender and sore for the next day while you stretch it back out. Shifting is worse."

Emma spun her head back around to where Regina had wandered off to. "She's sick…"

John laughed. "Very likely. But keep in mind that we get the problem wolves out here. Punishments have to be severe or it might not stick with a wolf already abandoning the rules. Her way seems sadistic, but it's over quickly and leaves a lasting impression. Believe me when I say there are methods still used that make what she does seem like a time-out over an actual punishment." Emma still stared after the woman, wondering if torture was a family trait. John moved again, clearing his throat for her attention. "C'mon. Time to learn about sticks."

Emma groaned. "I'm going to be an unofficial botanist before I even pick a pack."

John laughed full and rich and a block of Emma's anxiety fell away. "Probably, if Regina has anything to do with it. But me? I'm just going to show you what kind of wood is best for what kind of fire. Not something you could really learn in a book. You'll be getting dirty and scratched up today. And when you've got that down, I'll show you how to use flint rocks. Matches aren't always available out here, and harder to keep when it gets cold and wet."

"Right…" Emma shook out the meandering thoughts over how evil Regina Mills could get. She tilted back far enough to get a good look at John's face. "Hey, you aren't Little John are you?"

Emma felt a smile break her lips when he laughed again. "Do I look little to you?"

* * *

Robin watched from the trees as Emma interacted with his oldest living friend. He trusted his second in command without hesitation, not a doubt in his mind that John would be mindful of Emma's needs while making her forget them for a few moments. But the poor girl had been through hell, and all the trust and good intentions in the world couldn't stop her brain from breaking if it wanted to. So Robin watched and waited from the trees, praying she would pull through the day. Just as he had done the day before. And the day before that. And would continue to so long as she needed.

Regina found him soon after, wordlessly siding up next to him to join in the vigil. His mate was almost as tightly wound as Emma these days sharing camp with her. Old wounds that could never heal properly springing open in sympathy for the girl. He leaned in to press a kiss to her jawline, hoping to convey his pride in her for enduring this trial as silently as she had. They both startled as a foreign sound broke the air. John was teetering and losing his balance after dropping a cord of wood; not something a wolf –even at his size– would be able to do.

And Emma Swan was laughing.

Regina's hand gripped his forearm as Robin lifted his phone and captured the sight before it was gone. He felt like a parent taking note of a child's first step, and maybe he was. Maybe a great many of them were. He sent the image along to Graham and Ruby, knowing they needed to see their friend healing as he promised. He sent it along to Snow and David, knowing they worried on a level that none of them could fathom.

He sent it to Killian. But that was for selfish reasons.

* * *

Emma's time passed with the Nomads uneventfully. She had her routine, the days blended, life was wonderfully boring. Soon after she figured out how to make campfires to John's approval, she expressed some interest in helping make the meals as a way to contribute; Emma thought it would be something easy to learn. So they tried to teach Emma how to skin rabbits and other creatures, and that brought back her vomiting for obvious reasons; she had forgotten that their food wasn't bought in a store. So they tasked her with pack laundry as a simple first duty that didn't require more than herself to accomplish. Emma had no clue how to go about that _without_ electricity, (Granny would insist that Emma had no clue _with_ electricity) so she was issued another tutor to start her off. To her immense relief, it was Robin himself who took up the task. The man was great for conversation or companionable silence, whichever she wanted for that day. He was easy with a smile, and the lingering looks the men were beginning to give her stopped when he was around. Not wanting her to suffer the larger of men's clothing (i.e. underwear and pants), they assigned Emma to the smaller items. Imagine then, how delighted Emma was to find out that the smaller items ( _how many socks do werewolves need anyway?_ ) were to be washed in a basin of colder water instead of the boiling tub she had been hoping for. Cue sarcasm complete with a despondent turn or her lips.

Then came the afternoon Will Scarlet was due back from wherever the hell he had been and Robin was eager to introduce Emma to him; it made Emma worry that the matchmaking had begun. As it was, she was trying to get through her daily chores so she could at least put a brush through her hair before he showed up. (Not that she was making an effort for the guy; she just didn't want the hag look to be her first impression.) Her rounds of returning the laundry were nearly over when she noted her hands shaking from the residual damp of her chore. The weather was turning colder, and there was only so much heat she could get into the water basin before she burned her hands, and there was only so much cold her gloves could keep out. More than a few of the pack members saw the same and offered their personal services to warm her back up; wolves run warm they'd told her, that it would only be a few minutes of holding her hands to make them steady again. The first few seemed genuine in their offers, but after a while with voices carrying, the offers shifted to the slightly lewd or demanding as the males started their inevitable competitions with each other. Rather than get between fighting dogs –because that's what they were, literally and figuratively– Emma decided to slowly make her way back to the main tent. They could fight it out all they'd like for all she cared, so long as she didn't actually have to deal with any of them.

She had managed only a few inches when time did two things.

It slowed to a stop when one of the men reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her, his fingers long and thin wrapping like spider legs around her bicep. Emma found only enough breath to mutter, "Don't–"

Then time sped up to recover its loss. Painted nails dug into the wrist holding Emma, a blur of motion, all ending with the man was pressed into a tree with his arm bent upwards behind him. It didn't look right with his hand reaching above his head, palm facing backwards, but Regina was using the same hand gripping his wrist to grip his hair; forcing his head to the side. Her right hand remained empty, but clawed and poised at the man's backside, fingers curling between his legs towards his balls. The sounds of her growling and his screaming were nothing short of disturbing; nothing should sound like that out of human throats. Then the air grew heavy, and the bulk of the wolves dropped to the ground whimpering, the rest tilted their heads. Regina did nothing, refusing to let go of the man she had in her hands.

A voice too innocently curious for the scene playing out in front of them sounded from Emma's right. "So what's the problem?"

She jumped of course, more focused on the potential bloodbath in front of her. "Robin! God, warn a girl or wear a bell around your neck." He didn't laugh like he usually did, didn't make a sound to acknowledge her words at all. He kept his eyes forward on his wolves, hands in his pockets giving a deceiving air of detachment. Emma sighed, "I was bringing back the laundry. My hands were cold and a few of the guys offered to help warm them back up. Things got competitive and out of hand. I tried to back away –I swear I didn't run– but one of them caught me moving or something and tried to stop me. That's when Regina came in and…" Emma gestured to the man still pinned to the tree. "Well…"

This time Robin hummed. "I see. Were any of them too forceful in their words or actions?"

Emma hesitated. She could rat them all out for being idiots, but she had to live here too, and it was difficult enough living with humans after a snitch revealed itself, Emma wasn't eager to find out what living with wolves would be like after the same. Less so when _she_ was being set up as the snitch.

"Emma?" Robin's voice had taken on a more concerned tone, likely worried her silence was another blackout. "I asked you a question Emma, did you hear me?"

"Yeah, sorry… um… no, they weren't forceful. I've had worse, not even counting the most recent thing. I'll just go to my tent so everyone can get back to normal."

Emma stepped back just to be stopped by the large mass known as John. She looked up and back to him, his eyes burned a bright yellow and his features set into something that promised a head on a pike before this was over. Might have been a variation of hungry, Emma wasn't all too sure, she'd seen similar when he hadn't managed to get to the food tables in time for supper.

"You right done it now din'ya boys?" A heavy English accent sounded somewhere beyond the mass of John, though not one Emma had heard before. "Went and touched the lady ain't none of us supposed to be touchin. And with a chance to be proper gents to the girl dangling right in front of ya!"

Robin held up his hand, "That's enough Will." ( _Well that answers that question._ ) "Go on to my tent and we'll talk in a minute. Emma, you have done nothing wrong. My pack has been instructed of the rules, and if any of them have broken those rules I need to know." Emma looked around, moving her mouth as if to force words out, but found not a sound to make. "I might remind you Emma, that as a wolf, I'll know if you're lying. I'll know if you're holding back. I'll know if you weave a lie through the truth. Were any of them forceful with you? In any variation?"

Emma looked to him finally. He hadn't moved from his position on her right, and his hands were still in his pockets, but his face was harder than she was used to. No gentle smile, no soft eyes, this man wasn't happy, and she was going to be the one that made it worse for everyone else. "No, none of them were forceful with me. Mostly they were forceful with each other _about_ me."

Robin tilted his head sideways to the wolf under Regina's grip. "And that one?"

Emma breathed, "Reached for my arm when I was trying to leave. Prey runs right? I hadn't run yet, but I obviously wasn't calm either. He probably picked up on my anxiety and reacted to that. He'd barely circled my arm with his fingers before Regina had him pinned like that."

"I see. Well then, if he's the only one that broke my rules then I guess the rest of you lot can shuffle off. I'll be reminding you in smaller groups how to act like men around a lady starting tomorrow. Though until then, fighting over females like they're a meal on legs isn't how it's done. Regina? Darling, you can let him down."

Regina's hand, the one poised at the man's ass, curled just a fraction more while she growled in defiance. "Miss Swan?"

Robin leaned over to Emma, "Unfortunately, my mate takes this sort of thing as a capital crime. Until you say something, she won't release him. I could force her as Alpha, but then _I'll_ have to pay for it later, and she'll just go back out and hunt him for what she feels is a just punishment. For which I'll have to punish _her_ later. And not the kind of punishment where I get to use my safe word. So if you please?"

Emma cleared her throat, hoping to erase the mental image he had just given her. "I'm fine Regina, really. The guy barely touched me."

Regina spun her head, and that couldn't be any more natural than the angle she held his arm in. Her eyes burned purple, a stunning contrast to her darker coloring, reminding Emma to get around to asking someone about the laser eyes. Regina's nose was already somewhere between human and whatever it flattened out to between forms, and still her eyebrow went up in haughty disbelief. "You told him 'don't.' Miss Swan."

Emma breathed again, not wanting to provoke the woman who could neuter the guy with a flick of her claw. "Because he was reaching for my arm. I didn't want to be touched or in the middle of whatever testosterone bath they had going. You got him off of me before he could do anything. Considering you've probably broken _and_ dislocated the arm attached to the offending hand in question, even scalped him a bit from what I can see, I'd say he's learned his lesson."

Regina spun her head back to the man, leaning her face in close for an exaggerated sniffing session. "He'll heal. I could rip off this offense and make him a eunuch though. A one-armed eunuch duty bound to you for the rest of your stay. I'd say he'd learn his lesson then about touching women without their say so. About instigating a minor riot over a woman chilled from her duties, when a simple hot cup of coffee or tea would have done a better job of fixing the chill and making her comfortable within our ranks. Claude the three-legged wolf has a nice ring to it. Don't you think so Claude?" Regina tugged his hair again.

Emma winced in sympathy, noting the small trickle of blood trailing down the man's neck, pushing her to answer for him. "Nah… you know… I'm good. Just give him my laundry duties for the next week, and we'll call it square."

Regina breathed him deep one more time, before dropping him sound on his ass. "Fine, have it your way Miss Swan."

She stepped over him, adjusting her shirt while walking to her tent. Brisk and rigid, looking every inch the queen Emma joked her to be. (All internal jokes; Emma wasn't stupid.) Regina wasn't ten feet from her tent opening when something –rather, someone– burst from under the back end of the tent. Not that she blamed him; she wouldn't want to be left alone with Regina right then either. A few of the men had remained behind, for what Emma had assumed was to watch the scene play itself out, but then the tension to Robin's shoulders returned, and his neck rippled under his skin. It took a minute of looking around for actual danger before Emma caught on that the problem was still her. Though the wolves kept their eyes down or their bodies turned, every movement Emma made sparked an equal reaction from them. Their attention was still devoted to her.

Robin made a dramatic show of stepping in front of Emma without looking away from the remaining men. His back moved closer and closer to her front, effectively backing Emma into John still stationed behind her. It had been some time since having John behind her triggered any of her problems, but his general size and the current circumstances made her jump again when his large hand clamped itself on her shoulder. A shadow moved behind the group in front of them, and for a brief moment, Emma's heart stopped. (The last shadow she knew was someone she could use right now.)

John boomed behind her, "Looks like we have some men that need a refresher course in why we prefer Regina to handle the discipline around here."

The wrong version of an English accent answered behind the men (Emma's heart sank), "Oh we do now? And here I thought ol' St. Nick had gone passed me by. Don't suppose you blokes could hang a tic rousin ol' Rob here could'ya? Been a bit since I last saw him good and miffed, I'd really like to enjoy it with a beer and some crisps if possible."

Emma still couldn't see the guy talking, which was unnerving all on its own. Like the tress had come to life with a Cockney accent to point out the obvious in the most obnoxious way. Worse, she was crowded and forgetting how to breathe with the power plays happening all around her. The blackness wasn't creeping along her vision yet, and the taste of fish wasn't crawling into her mouth; Emma held out hope that this bout with anxiety wouldn't end up being her eventual sidebar into calling everyone "sir".

"John," Robin's voice was eerily calm and quiet. "Escort _my friend_ to her tent and stand guard. Will, your duties have just altered; I'll debrief you after this is handled."

Emma leaned forward, "Robin, these guys shouldn't be in trouble because of me."

Robin's hand reached back and gave hers a squeeze. "You hear that men? _Our guest_ is under the impression that _she's_ to blame for your behavior and manners. I'm eager to hear each of your versions as to why she's absolutely _wrong_. Of which I'm sure you'll want to share with her once you've shown me what noble gents you truly are and once she's deemed you fit to be within meters of her again." Robin stepped forward from Emma, glancing over his shoulder. "Go on then, I seem to have a few lads needing my time today."

John rushed her off; it was the last she saw of Robin or those men for the next few days.

* * *

She did see a new wolf wandering around camp in those days though; it didn't take long to figure out the wolf was the newly returned Will Scarlet. Not that she ever caught him upright on two legs, just caught him trying to rummage through her tent more than once. Bastard actually tried to take off with a pillow or blanket now and then. At first, Emma did what she thought was the right thing and took the matter to Regina rather than deal with a wolf she didn't know as a man. It was her tent, but she wasn't on par with a werewolf, so she wasn't going to openly call out and provoke a wolf, especially one in this pack.

Should have been the right answer; it was everything everyone had taught her. She was finally obeying the rules.

So of course it didn't work. The little shit even picked up the frequency the longer she tried to hold to the stupid rules.

(When she saw him leaving her tent one afternoon with her bra dangling from his muzzle she promised war.)

* * *

Emma should have paid better attention to the increasingly cold water in the stream. (To be fair, she did have distractions at the time.) A winter storm was heading in, stalling all Emma's plans to get back at the thief. Mindful of their fragile human states, Emma and Roland were packed up and sent down to Brookside for the duration of the weather. _("Cold and snow is one thing Miss Swan, flurries and high winds are another."_ ) And while being back among people she'd be forced to be social with wasn't something Emma was looking forward to, the large bed and indoor plumbing certainly were. Leroy was there to greet them again, addressing young Roland as "Little brother" and her as "Poppet". Roland got a genuine smile with his greeting though; Emma couldn't tell anyone the name of the face she got. Her room wasn't the same as the previous times, and while it wasn't really an issue, Emma was inevitably curious what was wrong with the other one that caused the change. Deep down, it was just the need for something familiar that had Emma searching out either of her hosts to ask questions. Of course, trying to find Snow or David –or anyone– in the castle they called a home turned out to be an elaborate game of hide and seek with Emma being the only player aware of the game.

Point in fact, when she finally saw a person move into a room, Emma raced to catch up only to find the room devoid of anything living. The person hadn't come back out, and the door was the only one Emma could see. Either the person was a ghost ( _Nope, nu-uh, I refuse._ ), or they jumped out the window that wasn't shattered and couldn't open. Unless there were secret passageways throughout the place. Which, for Emma, was a step too far into bad fiction. A castle with hidden passageways, run by werewolves with apparent Viking ancestry. All they needed were neighbor castles belonging to Dr. Frankenstein and Dracula for the aesthetic to be complete.

_And maybe Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick._

Emma's giggle at her train of thought bordered the hysterical. It would be the next step into madness to have the rest of the monster mash show up and invade her life. She wondered if Dracula or Frankenstein's Monster showed up to make her "bride of" to either of them, would Killian show up to save her to save her from another forced pairing. It would at least give her a chance to thank him for everything he did for her. If not give her a chance to close off that part of her head that still wondered what happened to him after she was rushed from the Council room. Ok, it was a larger part than she was willing to admit to, but shared adrenaline-fueled adventures create links between people that can't simply be treated like they never existed to begin with.

Honestly, she'd be good with just hearing him say her last name.

Maybe see that smile that told the world he knew all of its naughty secrets.

Holding her wouldn't be out of the question, for however long she could tolerate it.

_Christ I'm pathetic._

"Emma?"

Emma whirled, startled from her search among the halls and rooms for people. Lost in her head again, the fist flew and connected with a sound crunch of bone on bone. The man fell backwards on his ass clutching his face and moaning loudly. Emma didn't recognize him, not curled up like he was, but a wolf wouldn't have gone down so easy. Footsteps rushed down the hallway, though for Emma or for the man on the floor, Emma wasn't sure.

_Human… he has to be a human…_

Gears moved, pins clicked… it took her a minute, but the memory eventually settled in.

"Emma! What did you do to August?" Mary Margaret looked stricken, an odd concept to place with a woman raised among wolves –and now one herself.

Emma glanced between the two. _Whoops…_

* * *

The wind had picked up outside, the last call to get indoors before the storm itself hit their walls.

Emma almost wished to be out in it.

Solarium. At least that's what Emma thought the name of the room would be. Some sort of indoor green house, but less humid and pretty enough to accept company in a less formal setting. ( _See? I'm not completely devoid of culture Graham.)_ Pots sat on the floor and hung from the ceiling filled with ferns and other leafy plants. There weren't many flowers to be seen, save for a few pots gathered off to a corner containing droopy white things equal in their beauty to their depressed state. Emma was almost sure she heard birds in here somewhere, but damned if she saw a cage anywhere. It was a nice room; she might even have them draw it up on a map so she could find the place again.

Emma flexed her hand again, feeling the bruises form over her knuckles. August had snuck up on her, punching him square on the nose was a reaction she couldn't help. But when she couldn't explain herself beyond a shrug to Mary Margaret, Archie was summoned to evaluate her again. Not as a punishment, Mary Margaret just wasn't taking the chance that the violent reaction wasn't another result of the PTSD. It didn't seem to matter how many times Emma confessed to the reaction being a result from her upbringing, or how many times Emma begged the woman to call Ruby to verify, Mary Margaret wouldn't be budged. The storm delayed Archie's arrival of course, but his summons would be marked in her file, which couldn't be a good thing. Ever. A human that acts violently when startled? But Mary Margaret was insistent (stubbornly demanding more like) that Emma got the proper care, regardless of what notes might end up in her case file.

At least Mary Margaret meant well.

Footsteps approached again, this time with the clattering jingle of dishes and silverware on a pushable cart. "Well Emma, you broke his nose. Thankfully it was a clean break and it should set with little scaring, though he'll look like a raccoon for the rest of the season."

Emma snorted. "I guess now he'll never get to be a teen model."

Mary Margaret blinked, hands hovering over a small plate of sandwiches. "I'm sorry?"

Emma waved her off. "Just an obscure TV reference. One of my foster homes only allowed TV shows from the 1960's and 1970's."

Mary Margaret groaned. "Oh not you too! I swear if you end up as bad as David quoting some random TV show, I'm locking you in the highest tower until a Prince shows up to rescue you."

Emma chuckled. "I'll make sure to tell Killian to keep his mouth shut next time I see him." The words were out before her brain could shut them down, and her face fell before she could remember her company. So she laughed it away as best she could. "If I ever see him again that is. Though he prefers sci-fi and fantasy it seems. Total nerd."

Mary Margaret, to her credit as hostess and as Queen of Werewolf-Viking Land, said nothing. She served the tea plain, sugars and creams within Emma's reach to dress as she pleased, and placed three of the dainty sandwiches on the plate rather than the polite serving of one. They sat together, sipping and nibbling, fully aware that the elephant in the room was stomping its happy feet right through the weather treated glass.

Emma (internally) sighed a happy relief that it was Snow who broke first.

"Emma, I know what he's up to, what The Council decreed. But I can't say anything. The only reason David and I know _at all_ is because Ruth wanted to make sure there were people outside _that group_ who knew where he was and what he was doing. Just in case he failed. She didn't want the worst rumors to be the ones that survived. I promised I would keep it to myself until the matter was settled."

Emma stiffened. "That implies he's alive."

Snow nodded. "It does. I promised to keep a secret Emma."

"So you said." Emma raised the cup for a sip. "I don't suppose you know how to get in contact with him? I'd like to drop him a line… say thank you… let him know I'm getting better. I'm guessing he'd like to know how his efforts are working out."

Mary Margaret gripped her cup just a fraction. "He knows Emma. Robin, Ruby, and David have been sending emails throughout these months. Updates on everyone involved. It was…" Mary Margaret set her cup down too hard and it shattered. "Oh _fiddlesticks_ … look Emma, I promised to keep a secret. And I keep my secrets."

Emma deflated, reminding herself how often she made clean breaks with folks she felt should be cut out of her life for one reason or another. It always hurts in the beginning, but ultimately it just made things easier. Out of sight and out of mind for one, and saying good-bye out of anger for the other. Emma was just used to being the one to disappear. She could respect this, she had just been hoping…

Mary Margaret reached out her hand and gripped Emma's. "I keep secrets, right until I see them hurting people. Then frankly, I don't know how to keep my mouth shut. I can't stand seeing people hurt when I know something that might help them one way or another. Even if the truth hurts, then at least the person knows and can properly move on with whatever they need doing." Emma looked up with her eyes only, knowing the effect made her look like a petulant child. It made Mary Margaret laugh softly. "I get that look too often from my Leo for it to work the way you want. And it's unnecessary since I'm telling you what I can anyway. I can't tell you everything, but I can tell you some. So long as you don't repeat it or pester me for more?"

Emma relaxed her body, "Sure. Not like I'm running into a whole lot of folks to talk to in the woods anyway."

Mary Margaret blinked. "You're explaining that to me later." She shoved another sandwich in her mouth, talking around it after she had chewed it down. "After you were taken out, The Council deliberated for some time over what to do next. It was obvious that Cora was pulling Walsh's strings. So her testimony was turned out for the bullshit it was. They deemed Walsh's death clean with David pointing out the obvious challenge, and your need for self-defense. The next problem was how far Killian was involved. They had their own techs –yes, we scary beasties have techs– go over the data Graham provided. Even had Merlin go over it for magical tampering. So of course, Killian was in the clear for the other murders before you and for the hassle you had to endure."

Emma snorted. "I don't think 'hassle' is the right word Mary Margaret."

Snow had the grace to look shamed faced while her left cheek rounded out with pocketed food. "No. No you're right; it belittles and discredits everything you've gone through. Which wasn't my intention, I only meant to get through as much as I could while I had time to. Forgive me?"

Emma waved her off. "It's fine. Honestly, it's a bit refreshing. The sooner people stop treating me like I'm broken, the sooner I can forget I am."

Snow scowled over her cup as she sipped. "We are so getting back to that last comment too. But later, and you still have to spend time with us here, so don't think you'll get out of it. Now, Killian. After he was cleared of charges, he still had to face the consequences of how he dealt with you. You should have been left to die by Written Law. Killian avoided an easy kill to get you to safety; he was going to have to pay for that eventually. His punishment is what he's enduring right now. One of the stipulations he worked out was that he gets updates on everyone as proof that we're not going through any retaliation."

Emma sat up, "Why would any of you go through any retaliation?"

Mary Margaret's smile was soft. "Because we all knew what he had done, and we all jumped on board with him. We were supposed to report him the minute we knew. All of us, even Granny. And all of us ignored Written Law for you."

Emma stuttered a moment. "Why? You all have families to look after!"

Snow shrugged. "I'm sure there were various reasons. Mine wouldn't even be the same as David's. But the bottom line? Because it was the right thing to do. You can tell me that one person isn't worth all this trouble, and statistically, you'd be right. But the minute you justify _one person_ as an acceptable loss, is the minute it becomes easier to accept _anyone_ as an acceptable loss. Everyone is worth the effort Emma."

Emma shifted in her seat. "That's all well and good, but I don't think Killian shares that philosophy."

Snow sighed. "No, it's not likely he does. He does however, have a very hard set of rules. I hate to say it because it's ridiculously cliché, but that old sailor does have a code he staunchly abides by. And something about you tripped a couple things in that code. If I had to guess? It would be the line he fed me when he helped me to get David good and peeved. How did it go now… um… 'A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.' You on the ground still baiting Walsh fits right in with that one."

Emma eyed her, "And the rest?"

Mary Margaret's eyes were wide with false innocence. "Hmm? What rest?"

"You said it tripped a couple things in his code. That was only one. What was the rest?"

Mary Margaret hummed. "It's only a guess Emma. I could be completely wrong; I have been about this subject before. Remember I mentioned the rose-colored glasses?" Emma tapped her fingers against the table without looking away. "We had some Pack trouble forty years ago. Actually it started closer to fifty years, but semantics. We asked Killian for help, petitioned formally even. His farmhouse is in Pack boundaries, and we could have forced him. But a technicality gave him grounds to refuse. He said, 'I risk my life for two things: love and revenge. And in this I have neither.' He did promise to stay out of the issue entirely thankfully. He wasn't with us, but he wasn't against us either."

Emma frowned. "I don't get it, how does that one apply to me?"

"Really Emma? C'mon now, you can't be that dim. And you shouldn't be that purposely dim. We all saw it; we all said one thing or another to you about it."

Emma scoffed. "That mate thing?" Mary Margaret nodded. "Are you saying Killian was in love with me?"

"I'm saying he _is_ , Emma. Not was."

Emma stood up, wanting anything but this unfounded conversation again. "One: there's no such thing as love at first sight. So that's kills your theory right off the bat. Two: if I was his mate –whatever the hell that actually means– then why isn't he here? Why hasn't he checked on me personally? How could he be ok with The Council arranging my life with anyone _but_ him? Three: Who the fuck said I felt the same that it should matter if he was in love or not?"

Snow stood and moved in front of Emma. "One: Yes there is. Two: I can't answer those for you. Three: If you didn't, why have such an issue over _his_ feelings?"

Emma held her elbows, needing to grip something, anything. "I don't have issues."

Mary Margaret held the same elbows instead of the hug Emma knew she wanted to take. "You need more faith Emma. In yourself and those around you. And love is always worth a drop or two. A little bit of hope can go a long way, and if we all saw the same thing in you and Killian, then maybe holding out hope for it isn't so crazy."

* * *

The storm lasted less than a week. Roland was made to remain at Brookside until the snow and ice melted further, but Emma went back to the Nomads in the same jeep Robin "stole" the first time. (Turned out to be Regina's that they kept stored in a bunker not far from the main camp. _Borrowed my ass._ ) Staying at Brookside with Mary Margaret's "Love, Faith, and Hope" campaign was something she just couldn't do without going insane. It took two days in her tent to realize the wolf stealing things from her was another aggravation that tested her limits.

She was freezing.

The wolf was annoying as hell.

Mary Margaret was delusional.

And everyone had been hiding things from her. Again.

Again and again and again.

_And JESUS FUCK I'm just done…_

Her feet dragged her to the jeep. Her hands hotwired the engine. Her body drove it out of the woods to the main road that led to Brookside, only to drive past the crossroad that would have led her there. She let road hypnosis settle in her mind, willing the asphalt beneath her to never stop rolling. She hadn't been for a drive like this since before she landed in New York as a kid. Retribution from whatever self-righteous douchebag on The Council didn't even register on her "Shit to Worry About" list. She didn't care. She needed out, she needed away.

_For all the talk about picking up on lies, they sure as fuck don't mind bouncing around the truth._

The sun was already setting. It was a pretty view as the pinks and oranges painted the sky on the passing clouds.

_He has my damn number. Asshole made sure he had it. Texting a quick 'All is well Swan" would have taken only a few seconds._

The white farmhouse with the chipped paint looked like Lisa Frank attacked it while it was empty.

_I even liked that he called me by my last name._

Her feet dragged her up the weathered steps and through the front door that Killian never bothered to lock.

_He never locks his doors. Cocky sonofabitch._

Her hands guided her way down the dark hallway to the room that had been hers for all of a night.

_Ten to one my laptop is dead._

Her body moved her away from the room once she had changed into her clothes still housed in the dresser from when she had unpacked.

_How could she say that he was in love with me? Is in love? You don't leave the ones you love._

Her feet dragged her into his room. Her hands pulled back his covers. Her body slid into the bed. Her knees pulled up to her chest. Her arms held her torso. Her tears slid unchecked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know, I know. I'm late. I don't know how to say this... I'm pregnant Trevor. No but really, not pregnant. Anything that could stall this chapter, did stall this chapter. A comp update which ate half the original, leaving me to try and recreate. (It reverted a ton of my settings in fact.) In recreating, I wasn't happy with what it was, and have been fighting it ever since. Throw in the chaos only life with a full time job and children can give you, plus biological demands that only serve to fuck me up. I tried to meet the deadline, I did. But I was more willing to freak y'all out than I was willing to just shove whatever I managed at you. Sad part is I'm still not happy with the damn thing. Happy part is the next chapter isn't giving as much shit as this one. The word vomit was strong during all this hassle too, I swear each time I tried to edit and cut things out, I'd end up with 50 new words. 
> 
> Should I manage to keep the vomit to a safe level, we've got two chapters left. I wouldn't hold me to that though. 
> 
> Remember I've told y'all won't like the ending? Keep that in mind as you continue to read this through the next few weeks.


	32. The Hunt…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Violent character death

**Chapter 31**

**The Hunt…**

* * *

He shouldn't have been surprised, not with Cora. Mexico wouldn't have been her cup of tea even in the best of circumstances. South America perhaps, just for the sheer numbers to melt into, but Mexico and the southwestern United States were filled with a magic too different to her own. It weakened her abilities, and left her vulnerable to those looking to fill their blood stores. As a Fusion, her blood would be potent for a myriad of spells and rituals. As it was, they tracked her trail along the border towns between nations all the way to the west coast; it ended somewhere south of California before it swung hard north. Her newest trajectory taking them straight to the Sierras and the mountain named El Capitan. There they found an interesting formation of dead animals, all with Killian's name carved into them. It relieved him to know that she was aware of who was hunting her. It would make it easier when they would eventually caught up.

The pull to Emma halted him once more. This one sending bolts of pain throughout his chest. She was breaking again; it wasn't hard to recognize that anymore, the sensation coming so often, now that she had room to let it happen. But each time she broke, she rebuilt herself stronger, helping keep the wolf in check and on task. But he still needed the reassurance, to validate his quest. So Killian fumbled with his phone, typing out a quick message to Robin requesting another update on how things were progressing with her, hoping the man kept the reply brief. He couldn't handle another in depth run over on the petitions Robin's pack had come up with in regards to Emma's inclusion, followed by the few that Graham and David had produced as well. When nothing came back, Killian opened his photos. Needing to see her smile once more. His proof that his current actions were the right path to take for both their sakes.

There was noise to his rear; Killian suffered a quick glance away from Emma's face to see Tink coming with the trees. Rearranging their roots and positions to either swallow the display of dead animals all together, or to discretely cover them up with foliage. Tink spat on the ground, "I really hate that bitch."

Killian nodded as he locked his screen, hiding his weakness in his front pocket. "Aye. Well, what was the arrangement you saw from above? A name? A ritual set up? A cock? Tell me she drew a cock for me using dead animals; I think I could use a good laugh today."

Tink sighed. "Any word from Ariel? It looks like Cora hopped over to the Rockies and continued north."

Killian shook his head. "No nothing yet. But northbound on the Rockies takes us to Canada. We'll need her again if get closer to the ice than the forests."

Tink looked over what was left of the animals, flicking her hand here and there with final arrangements, her shoulders twitching when she released control of the fauna to their new places in life. "Yes, I guess we will. I think I'll stick around though, even if we move to the ice. I've been good to see that woman die for a few decades now."

Killian eyed her steadily; he had been indulging the idle banter only because the longer he stayed distracted from Emma, the better his chances of seeing this venture through. But the idea of Tink intentionally evading the questions only caused the hairs on his neck to stand on end. "Tink. The dead you just buried. What image did Cora cast them in?"

Tink's shoulders twitched again. "You don't want to know Killian. It won't help you, and it doesn't have anything to do with our pursuit. Cora staged this whole thing to get to you and force you to make a mistake."

He turned and faced her fully, tilting his head in that new way his wolf enjoyed, something wholly unnatural on a human shape. "Tell me you know I want again Fairy. I'm sure it'll be an interesting result."

She waved him off. "Oh stuff it Killian. You might scare folks with your new tricks, but I've known you too long to buy any of your bullshit. Just like I know you were looking at her picture again before I came up on you. Just like I know you felt the pull towards her again just before that." She looked at him then, stern features softening as her Fae eyes saw something only they could see on him. "I mean it Killian; it won't do you well to know. We're getting closer, and losing focus now will only be what she wants."

Killian looked away, lazily gesturing to the small details in front of them. "The El Capitan Mountain… my name carved into the beasts. This was left for me, that much is obvious. So tell me the rest."

Tink sighed again. "Fine, but I tried to stop from telling you. Don't blame me if I have to use poppies on you again to knock you back on your ass."

"Out with it woman."

"Emma."

He spun on her. "Come again?"

"Cora spelled out Emma Swan. In cursive even –always so fucking pretentious that one."

Killian's throat seized. His wolf was pushing at the cage Killian struggled to keep it in, seeing death for a companion again over the simple reality he had in front of him. It was a threat, nothing more. He breathed deep. Meant to make him doubt Cora's destination, or make him think that while he was away Emma was the target of a spell. He breathed deep again. An empty threat from an empty woman. Oh she was fully capable of seeing these threats through, but he knew what desperation smelled like, she made him bathe in it for weeks while she left his Emma to the whims of that cockless psychotic. These woods were ripe with her need to escape, to survive. Killian sucked it in deep on a final breath, feeding it to his wolf in place of Emma's sunshine.

"I acknowledge your standing investment to the woman's death Tink, but the kill is mine."

Tink actually laughed at him. "Ah hell Killian, I was only hoping to drive some ivy through her nostrils and into her lungs. I'm not competing for the kill shot on this one. And I think Ariel would enjoy some play after all her hard work, but I don't see you having a problem there either."

Killian gave a curt nod, "We have an accord then."

* * *

Emma was dreaming again. She was living in Killian's farmhouse and the summer sun was making the whole place bake in spite of the open windows and decent breeze. She laid on his bed, lazing the day away with her over-read book of pirates, a prince, a band of reluctant brigands, and a princess filled with sadness. It was quiet and she was content; it should have been her first clue that it wasn't real. But in her dream she remained, unwilling to let go of the feeling for reasons she could remember. Heavy footfalls of boots sounded on the hardwood floors throughout the house, echoing louder and louder as only sound in a dream could do. But what rounded through the door wasn't a human wearing boots, though the image of the creature wearing small enough boots flickered like a faulty light bulb over what was in front of her. It should have been her second clue. But when the black wolf climbed his way onto the bed with Emma, she forgot why she should care about him wearing boots at all. Time blinked as it does in dreams, it was dark and she was lined up next to the wolf still, fingers slowly working through his fur. As much as she enjoyed curling up to the man, Emma knew the wolf needed her too, just for a little while. It didn't bother her, not like it should have. But then, neither Killian nor his wolf ever really sparked her learned defenses against intimacy. They turned those defenses into light switches that the flicked off with abandon. A flickering image of Neal came and went along the far wall, reminding Emma why she avoided the people who bypassed her walls. But he was long gone and Emma didn't want to think of the scars she still bore from her time with Neal. Not the emotional ones, not the physical ones. So she buried her face in the thick blackness of her wolf. Her new guard against the nightmares.

Her face began to feel wet, and she worried that she'd wake him with her crying again. She hated making him worry over tears she couldn't control. But then the wetness on her cheeks increased and was followed by puffs of warm air. Her wolf had spun and stood on the bed over her body, trapping her between his legs while his tongue bathed her face. It was enough to bring out a giggle or two, his antics driving away the bad memories.

"Have ya found her Will?"

Her wolf blinked between his normal black fur and an unknown white fur. His eyes between his ice white hue and yellowish green. Emma didn't like the new version, so her hands came up to shield her face as the image settled on the one she didn't want; eyes blinking against the humid breath still puffing in her face.

"Will! Dammit boy where did you go off to now? Oh–"

John was in her doorway, his body eating up the breadth so he had to turn slightly to walk in. Emma blinked again and again, the dream filtering off down to the depths of her head so reality could sit in its place.

She lives with the Nomads, not at the farmhouse.

The winter air was biting and cold instead of the warmth summer can bring.

The wolf standing over her wasn't Killian.

"Easy Emma," John held up a placating hand, "It's just Will Scarlet. Being a disgusting prat, but no one to worry over."

Will let his tongue loll out the side of his muzzle as he took a playful stance over Emma's body. He held for the time it took Emma to rub the sleep from her eyes, but the minute she looked to him again, he reached out and gripped a pillow in his teeth, taking off with it when Emma lunged to take it back. John jumped out of Will's path instead of getting blown through, shaking his head when a crash into furniture could be heard a moment later.

Emma's throat was thick and dry, causing her voice to drop to low scratchy levels. "What's going on John?"

His eyebrows meet the mass of long curly hair on his head. "What's going on is you stole Regina's jeep and left camp without so much as a say so to the trees. You've gone and cause the entire pack to comb the woods looking for you after that bitch of a storm we just had, and I'm sure Snow and David over at Brookside are at Defcon 1 over this mess."

Emma let the confusion twist her face, willing the memories to settle in as John had said them, feeling them war with the remnants of what the dream had given her. He wasn't lying, she was sure of it, but that didn't stop her heart from arguing. Emma groaned, letting her head fall to her hands, cursing her heart for ignoring reality at the worst of times. The Council may have made him go off on some super-secret mission, but it had been Killian's choice to exclude her from further communication. It had been months of nothing, hanging on like this was not normal.

_Not for me anyway._

Emma lifted her head and sighed. "How bad am I in for it?"

John walked over to her, swooping an arm under her knees and behind her back. He lifted her like she was nothing, and her heart pinched in her chest for the man who used to carry her around the same way. "Not as bad as you think, but I don't envy the shit-storm you just brought on yourself. Doc Hopper showed up just after we noticed you weren't in the camp." Emma winced and John took that as a cue to start walking them out of Kilian's home. "He'll be waiting for you in the main tent."

He let her down next to the passenger door of the jeep she had borrowed (if Robin can use the word, she could too), standing behind her close enough that any chance she took to run he could stop by stepping in the way. Not like he couldn't catch her in a breath if she did break away, he was just making sure she understood that she was going back without a struggle. Emma shrugged, slinking into the seat and buckling in for good measure. Something wet began licking her ear, making her flinch and shout. The same wolf that had been standing over her on the bed was perched in the back seat, still with his tongue hanging out, looking more like a dumb mutt than a big bad wolf. He licked Emma's face from chin to hairline just as John was slipping into the driver's seat.

However, it was Emma that got the strange look from John. "Can I lick you like that?"

Emma startled. "What? Ew, no!"

John threw a thumb backwards gesturing to the dog in the back, "Then why are you letting him? He's not a pet; he's a man most of the time."

Emma looked back to the wolf. She hadn't seen him up on two legs yet, and that might be why she didn't have an issue, but then the wolf managed to wink at her before slurping his tongue back in his mouth. She shuddered, turning back in her seat to stare out the window, waiting for this to flicker and blink out like her dream had.

It didn't.

_Of course it wouldn't._

* * *

Ariel and Tink faded into the ether as Fae habitually do, leaving Killian to make the final lengths of catching up to Cora alone. It was for the best, Cora would smell the Fae long before she saw them, and she would act accordingly. At least this way, Killian might have a fighting chance of keeping her in place long enough to do considerable damage. They were farther north than he thought she'd ever go, far removed from basic population and nary a soul to corrupt into her service. She must be feeling the same hysteria he was, or she was too giddy over luring him into the Tombstone Territorial Park, the coincidence too hard to resist. Shame they weren't butted up against the mountain of the same name, Killian rather liked the idea of something so ostentatious for his grave marker. Still, the open area gave them room to move without needing to move to higher ground; a disadvantage usually, but one he was willing to take so long as it was hers as well. The snow alone was thick enough to slow them down, so long as Cora was in her human-skin. Killian was wagering that Cora would remain as such to use her magic over the brute force of the wolf; she seemed the type of soul that would see her wolf more as an accessory over the symbiont it could be.

 _A favor to the world truly_.

The world around him was a blanket of white broken only by the dark and craggy rocks that built the mountains and hillsides. She was here, he could feel her, but there wasn't tell of anything for miles in any direction. She was playing games with him. He tilted his head back, dropping his shoulders as he let out and exasperated sigh; the moisture in the air condensating into its own little cloud as it left his mouth. He wasn't here to play with the woman, but if that was the path she wanted, he would be more than willing to oblige her. For a time.

All too soon, her voice was behind him, speaking as though this were a planned affair. "Hello Killian. I was wondering when you'd show."

He held his head upright once more, closing his eyes for another deep breath before his final moments settled upon him. Survival was his strongest talent, encouraged further by the ancient pirate's luck he wore again about his neck, slung with the ring of his long dead brother. But Killian knew better than to couple such bold declarations with an arrogant mindset against the Fates, so he resigned himself to his death.

"Did you find my gifts?" Her voice was controlled, honeyed even.

"Aye." He turned slowly, laying his hand on his belt and shifting his weight to his back heel. "Though I wouldn't know where to place them within my home as they don't match the current décor, but I suppose it's the thought that counts."

Cora hummed. "A good thing then, that one of us was thinking at all. Tell me, just when did little Emma Swan best you?"

Killian huffed a laugh, "Truthfully? I wouldn't be able to tell you. I suppose I have you to thank for her, if you hadn't been manipulating Walsh Singe the entire time, I wouldn't have had the chance to run into her."

Cora smiled, "Perhaps. I dare say it might have happened organically with the mutual friends you both turned out to have. I wonder if you would have had the courage to approach her for more than just a casual fling if that had been the case. Or maybe _that_ would have been the thing that pushed her into the arms of Alpha Humbert. The strings of Fate are such fickle things; a singular choice can fray them utterly and alter the lives of so many, leaving us at the mercy of anyone."

Killian felt his mouth turn down in his boredom. "Speaking from personal experience are you? Just which choices of yours, do you suppose, have had such an illicit affect?"

She smiled again, "Oh I've lost count on that Dear. You see, I wasn't born to privilege. As a girl, I had to work hard to scrape by, and in those days a woman wasn't left many choices to get on by herself. I had to make choices I didn't want to make. And then there was a day I met a man who showed me another way. He showed me a way to bend the world around me, to give myself the step up I needed to end my life as a pawn and the path I needed to take to be the queen."

An eyebrow ticked high on his forehead, "You are aware, Cora, that monarchies have long since been out of power? And that a mere marriage would have been quite easier to attain the power you seek? Then as well as now."

The woman laughed, causing Death's fingers to drag a cold line down Killian's spine. "If all I wanted was power over people for a decade or two, then yes. But I found out early on, whatever power I gained, someone else had more. And if someone else had more, then I could still find myself at the end of their whims, paying the price for their actions."

"And the man who gave you your first taste of magic? Did you betray him as well so he couldn't use you?"

Another laugh bubbled from Cora's mouth, "Oh goodness no! He's one of the biggest fish in that sea, but I was promised another step up if I found him something he wanted."

The air contorted behind Cora, moving itself in and out like a lens finding focus. "And what was it that he wanted this time that called for all these theatrics? What could possibly have taken you so long to find that you had to wait decades and resort to murder and the manipulation of so many lives?"

She smiled, "You."

Killian held his breath. "What do you mean me?"

The cloud moved closer to them, resembling a woman with each inch. "Well, maybe not you directly; your pain mostly. You didn't think you could live for so long and not make an enemy or two along the way? And I have met a fair number of them Killian Jones. I wonder if you'll figure out which one wants your agony more than your death." Cora outstretched her arm behind her and towards the oncoming cloud, a totem in her hand. "Álli meg!"

The world held still, and more importantly, so did the cloud moving in on Cora. Of course the woman laughed once more, turning and moving around the formation. "I hope you weren't counting on your little Fae friend to help. Did you think I couldn't feel her approaching?" Cora tilted her body to the side, examining the shape of the cloud. "Oh Killian, you didn't say you were bringing me a present as well!" She touched the cloud without going through it. "Felfed!"

The cloud thickened within its frozen state, building its mass seemingly from nowhere. A small female took shape, arm raised above its head and a janbiya in her hand. The wisps of air dropped, leaving Tink standing before them both.

"Oh my dear boy, you always know exactly how to charm a woman. I've wanted this Fae since she tried to mettle with my daughter's prospects; though she should have saved everyone the trouble as my daughter went and ruined her life all on her own." Cora sighed, "As it is then, I'll be happy to use her for my own needs this time around. Who knows, maybe she can help me set Regina back down the road I had designed for her."

It was absurd enough that Killian couldn't help the bark of laughter that erupted from him. "Well, aren't you mum of the year, still hoping to set her child to rights. Sadly, she's happily mated to possibly the oldest wolf on the planet. You couldn't break that bond with the lightning bolt of Zeus himself."

"Then my new companion will help me kill her." Cora looked to him finally, the purple madness of her wolf dancing in her eyes, "After we dispose of you of course."

Killian took a step sideways, and another. Slowly circling Cora so her back was to Tink again. "I thought the price for your new boost to power was my anguish, my torment… kill me and you lose your bounty."

Cora shrugged, "Perhaps I won't get exactly what was promised, but a deal was made. If I can't deliver your broken soul, I might get away with my life if your death is on my hands." She eyed Tink over her shoulder, "…and a consolation prize."

Killian took a step forward, hoping his face was obeying his need to look desperate and charming instead belaying the rage he felt to his marrow. "Now, now… there's no need to be rash… perhaps we can discuss this."

"Your pretty face won't buy you out of this Killian, and that silver tongue can't persuade me." Cora tsked. "It's a shame too, you were very useful, but you had to go fall in love."

He was close, so very close. He could reach out and choke the bitch if he wasn't already so close to what he was after. "Can't stop the pull of a mate. It's instinctual, primal."

"It's weakness. And I don't have any use for creatures who are weak."

Killian wasn't sure if the woman was heartless, or just idiotic. Her personal views on love notwithstanding, denying the needs of the wolf only leads to a split between halves, to death.

_Well… one of our deaths anyway…_

He was inches now, close enough to see the remnants of the beauty she had been in her youth. To see how much of Cora Mills had gone to waste in her unquenchable thirst for _more_. But he had what he needed from her; everything from this moment was utter windfall. "Don't suppose you'd be so kind as to tell me the name of the man who holds me in such ill favor?"

Cora smiled, "I value my life Killian. And then even in death, he knows ways to make you suffer. I'm doing you a favor in disposing you first."

Killian finally smiled in return. "Keep your favors darling. If you won't share, it would seem that our time has come to an end, _C_. I'd wish you luck in the rest of your life, but… well…"

"Yes, it seems it has. Shall I wait for you to don your wolf-skin? I think I can spare the time for a new fur coat."

He shook his head, "I prefer a fair fight, and I made a promise."

Cora chanced a glance backward, looking on Tink still frozen in place. "To whom?"

Killian waved his hand through the air, stepping in a lazy circle and walking a few steps away. His old bravado returning to him with an end to this adventure in sight. "Actually… it was several people. All of whom gave me personal anecdotes to deliver, but I think for the sake of time, I'll keep them to myself. Though I will say the more colorful ones came from Snow, The Reul Ghorm, and your daughter Regina. Actually the one from Regina was enough to make even _my_ ears burn. Don't suppose you have a return message?"

He felt the magic in the air just before it struck, giving him just enough time to dance out of the way. "Bad form darling, attacking a man with his back to you. Never took you for the cowardly type… unless that was your message back to the family back home?"

Another volley came, but this one struck his leg just above his knee, forcing him to the ground as it burned its way through the few layers of clothes he wore. "You say cowardly Killian, I say ambitious. And no different than what you're friend here already attempted."

His gave her his best version of disbelief in spite of the pain taking over his leg. "I'm pretty sure those aren't even remotely close to the same thing. In either circumstance."

"And I'm pretty sure this conversation has lasted long enough." She held up her hand, closing it in a fist slowly. Each curl of her fingers crushed the bones in Killian's left hand.

He afforded her one scream of pain, she had earned that much from him. The reknitting process was almost worse. "As you wish love."

Killian rolled right, cradling his twisted hand to his chest. It was just more torture, she knew he would heal completely from it. Fate, it seemed, found a third option against his survival and willingness to die. It would allow the first and make him beg for the second. But he wasn't the only one Fate had plans for; Cora had been evading it for far too long, and her payment was now due in full. He managed his feet under him, knowing his wolf was in his eyes when Cora's danced in reply. He rushed her straight on, feinting left when she slid right. Killian pivoted to face her again, skidding backwards on the ice and snow with the momentum. The initial change overtaking his form while she remained human. He rushed again, feinting left while she slid right. Her scream pierced the empty earth around them, blood trailing down her clothes longer than it should have.

He raised his right hand –extended as it was to his claws, blood cascading in rivulets down his arm. Killian allowed the madness to return to him while his flesh switched back to his human-skin, laughing at the Fusion so many feared. "You've suppressed your wolf too long woman! You bleed more than one freshly Changed! I'd ask if it was that time of the month helping facilitate the matter, but we both know you're far too old for such things. You went through _that_ change some time ago aye?"

"Oh dear boy, so kind of you to pay attention to what my body does or doesn't do. But you save your observations; I don't fuck beings that are so weak, not even out of pity." Another volley came within a foot of his head; he smiled knowing her aim had faltered out of rage.

"From what I've heard, in your prime you allowed anyone promising love a night between your thighs. I'm going to assume your intelligence came in _after_ your dignity was gone." Laughing darkly as another burst of magic missed him entirely.

He palmed the figurine he had pilfered from Cora's jacket when she had allowed him so close, pressing the blood on his fingers hard into the stone. He threw it softly, almost as gentle as he would to a child. He needed Cora to see it coming towards her, needed her to know he was planning to hurt her with her own trinkets.

"Álli meg!" He repeated her words.

Cora raised her hands, "Feloldja!"

Killian smiled to her once more. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe intelligence skipped you altogether."

Cora's purple eyes blinked, not keeping up with Killian's words and actions. It suited him just fine. She built her magic deep this time, muttering her words to give it strength and direction. He could have attacked, knowing full well that the magic would still burn this early in the casting, but it wouldn't stop him from killing her. But he had promises to keep, so he waited. Cora's eyes snapped to him, finally curious why he stood waiting for his death, but her mouth kept forming the words needed to steer him to it.

A janbiya raised high behind Cora's head, the elbow bent, sending the curved blade into Cora's right breast. Her magic faltered, releasing to the ground beneath her, melting the snow to the dead grass and dirt. The blade extracted with a hiss of air escaping the lung before the blood mixed it into the first gurgles of death. Tink's cherubic face rose over Cora's shoulder, the glamor faltering with fresh blood on her hands. Her soft green eyes burned nearly neon against skin of teal. Round cheeks angling to sharp and thorned edges. Her pouty lips stretching back almost to her pointed ears, garishly revealing long needle like teeth. (Killian would be happy when she donned her regular glamor once more.) Each step the Fae took around Cora's heaving body (still amazingly on her two legs) sprung the dead grass to life under her boots. The blades of grass slithering like tentacles, eager to obey their master that brought them life.

Two snowballs the size of grapefruits landed hard to Cora's midsection. Killian whipped his head to find their origin. The siren was in a slight jog to get closer, "Sorry I was late. Something went sideways back east and I had to run interference."

Killian struggled against slashing out at the red head, something he imagined he'd always have a problem with. "And your contribution to the fight was to throw snowballs?"

Ariel chuckled as she gestured back to Cora. The snow was melting as it tracked up Cora's torso and down the witch's arms. By the time it reached Cora's hands, the snowballs were tiny globes of water; small cresting waves crashing against themselves along the surface.

Killian's eyebrows rose. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you an ocean Fae? How are you manipulating freshwater? Isn't the consistency just sideways of your element?"

Ariel nodded. "It is. This far inland doesn't yield enough salt particles in the air, even on the most windy of days. I had to improvise."

"As in what? A quick trip to the Artic to grab a couple handfuls?"

Ariel just smiled as she held up a shaker of commercial sea salt. Her eyes held a flash of lightning, and Cora screamed immediately after. Killian whipped his head again; the globes of water had frozen solid around Cora's hands, causing God knows what sort of damage underneath. Tink still stood next to Cora, janbiya pressed to the woman's throat.

Heaving through one lung –maybe one and a half– Cora spat in Tink's face, but her attention was still for Killian. "You stupid boy! Do you think she waits for you? A broken wolf with no Pack to protect her? No chance to keep her safe from _him_?"

He knew she was baiting him, she may as well have been holding a steak out on a string. "Enough Cora. It's over, you've lost."

But she didn't stop, not even when Tink nicked her in the neck. "He wants her now. Because of you, because of what she means to you. He wants you to suffer like he did; he wants to take from you what you took from him. If you go back to her now, you might as well snap her neck out of pity. Her life with Walsh would have been better than what you've sentenced her to now."

Killian flinched, dawn breaking over the identity of Cora's compatriot.

Tink drew a flicker of blood again. "Quiet. Do you think we're stupid? That any of The Council is? Blue knows of The Dark One's attentions to Killian and Emma, do you think she'd allow him to make a move on either of them?"

Ariel giggled behind Killian, "Or Nova? Merlin or Ruth –who've you personally offended since you fall under both their jurisdictions." Soft footsteps crunched the snow as the siren came to stand next to Killian. "Or Malcolm?" Cora visibly flinched with the invocation of the name. "Oh yeah, the little demon ridden boy? The creature that thrives on chaos and violence? Absolutely livid that all of this was over such an old petty squabble. What did he say? Something like, 'The imagination it lacks could fit the whole of hell inside the gap.' He almost sought you out to kill you himself just to rectify it."

Cora heaved a moment more, never letting her anger sway from Killian's face. "He'll make you watch as he takes the heart from her chest Killian. And then he'll feed it to you, if he doesn't eat it himself. Emma Swan will–"

The ice on Cora's left hand melted and shot up her arm, forcing its way into Cora's mouth to solidify into an impromptu muzzle. Killian looked sideways to the siren and she shrugged under the scrutiny. "Yeah I was tired of listening to her." She bounced on the balls of her feet, glee returning to her voice. "So who wants to do the honors?"

Tink pulled a step away, blade still pointed to the witch. "My abilities are limited out here with all this snow. You've got that salt shaker Ari, why don't you take advantage of the abundant supply?"

Ariel tilted her head, "Could… but I'm not emotionally invested like you two." She looked up to Killian, "The kill is yours Killian. If you want it."

Killian considered her a moment before nodding. "I want it. But this doesn't make us even siren, not after what you did."

She shook her head, "No, I don't imagine it does. But it can be a starting point for respect."

Tink chuckled, "Because all good friendships begin with someone's death."

Killian looked to Cora again. Blades of grass coiled around her ankles, not holding, but issuing paper-cut wounds over and over. One hand encased in ice and its partner was impossibly mangled. Blood had slowed out her side, but the damage still wasn't repairing as it should have. Her eyes blazed purple, as she shouted muffled words around the ice in her mouth. She was the picture of defeated. He took a step towards her, and another; standing close enough to strangle her as he pleased. If he had an ounce of mercy in his soul, this would be the heroic moment Killian would denounce killing the woman for the sake of taking her in for help.

Killian's hands snapped out and grasped Cora's head, twisting it clean off and dropping it to her feet. Her body thudding to the ground next to it.

Tink stepped forward and doused the head and body with what gasoline she had managed into a few old water bottles. She struck a match, letting it land on Cora's brown hair to catch the flames to the rest of her body. The air reeked as the stench of burning hair and flesh mingled with the body releasing its bowels. Fluids of all natures flooded the ground as they leaked away. Death was a disgusting affair that Killian didn't take particular enjoyment in. Not even when the smell of cooked meat whetted the basic need to hunt within him. They stood there next to her body for the next four hours watching the fire reduce Cora to bones and charcoaled bits of flesh. Ariel salted another patch of snow, raising it to wash the fire out and spread the ashes. Tink moved the grass through the rest, swallowing the body into the ground.

Tink nodded after a beat. (No one was willing to speak on behalf of the dead, but neither were they willing to speak ill of her.) "I'll slip back, report to The Council and make arrangements for your pick up Killian. Will you be heading down to Whitehorse for it, or do you want to stay up here?" Killian said nothing, staring at the spot Cora's body had been. "Right. Here it is. I don't suppose there's anywhere else you'd like me to go? Let some of your people know it's over?"

Killian twitched, his wolf eager suddenly to race back to Maine, to _her_. But for the first time, Killian felt his wolf flinch in indecision immediately after. The need to have and the need to protect at odds with each other. "Aye, Alpha Humbert and the Lady Ruby… if you would be so kind, they'll tell the rest."

Tink hesitated, waiting for further instructions that he couldn't give. "Right then. Shouldn't take too long for retrieval, sit tight."

Tink filtered away, leaving Killian with the siren. He waited for the urge to maim that saccharine face to shake his hands; his waited for the wolf to demand it. He waited. He waited for Cora's death to settle the madness; he waited for it to fill him with a sense of finality. He waited. But he felt nothing new, nothing changed. Just an empty pit where his purpose had been. He knew the man Cora spoke of, Killian wondered if anyone didn't know of their long-standing feud by this point. But they hadn't made motions against each other in at least the last hundred years or so, so the question wasn't why, but why now. And if he should continue to risk Emma's life with that bastard in the purview.

The world crashed into smaller and smaller pieces as everything knitted itself together. It had been all convenience of circumstance. Cora getting assigned to be his handler, discovering the feud, discovering her eldest daughter's one prodigy was insane... the victims that piled upon each other until Killian's wolf picked one of the lot to attach to. The fact that she held ties to his life otherwise was irrelevant; Cora would have proceeded along this course no matter whom his wolf chose. Every death was on his shoulders, every life destroyed was his fault, Emma's torture was because of him. And now there would be more to come to her doorstep. He could stay away from her, but he knew the man would attack her anyway to draw Killian out. He could fuse himself to her side, but that might draw the man sooner. There wasn't even a guarantee that Emma would want him. It was a ridiculous hope that she would accept him after all this, especially now when she had orders to marry within a pack. Killian removed his phone from his pocket, tapping in the code and thumbing to his stored photo of her. He hated Robin for sending them, it made his wolf difficult each time she was shown laughing and smiling. Greedy man that he was, he wanted those smiles to be of his doing, wanted to smell that burst of sunlight.

The siren cleared her throat next to him, "I wouldn't worry about Gold. The Council and the upper echelon are very aware of him, and his delusions of grandeur. Not that he doesn't have real power…" Killian lifted his eyes to her, briefly concerned for her basic intelligence; her nose was scrunched as she considered the person in question. "He's actually really scary. But he isn't all powerful."

Killian rolled his eyes, shifting his phone back to his pocket. "Your point Fae?"

She huffed a sigh, " _My point_ is nothing is immortal. If it's alive, then there's a way for it to die. Gold, like most creatures so old, fears his death. So he perpetuates the idea that it will never happen to the point where he might nearly believe it himself."

He considered the siren carefully. "Are you telling me you know how to kill The Dark One? You know how to end all this?"

Her eyes lost their spark, no light reflected as they swirled like a maelstrom. "It's an ending of one variety. The question is if it's the one you want."

"To kill the shadow that's been haunting me since my Change? To stop any further pain from reaching Emma simply because of her association to me? Yes, I think that's an end I'd like to see." His voice picked up intensity as his indignation rose, nearly screaming at the Fae at the end.

Still all she did was cock her head to the side, pursing her lips as she narrowed her eyes. "Do you love her?"

"Sorry?"

Ariel rolled her eyes, "Emma. Do you love her?"

Killian's muscles tensed, his wolf immediately on the defensive. "I feel the pull; doesn't that answer your question?"

Her lips ticked at the corners, "Not a bit. Many have felt the pull and barely felt compassion to their mates. It's the wolf who chooses, not the man. And we've all seen how devoted your wolf is. I'm asking you Killian Jones. Do you love her?"

He swallowed the dryness in his throat. Looking out to the snow drifts for… he couldn't even settle on an idea of what he might find out on the blankets of white. "I…" His eyes looked back to the Fae, that morning in the hallway always at the front of his mind when he did so. The idea of pressing Emma against a hard surface to press his needs into her flesh, the horror of watching her face flush purple under his hands. "Yes."

Ariel's lips ticked again. "You see the problem with old ones, is they become detached from the world. Their natural born families die off, and so do their childhood friends. And every version of every new attempt at friends and family ever after. At some point, the soul decides it needs a break from the loss, so they stop trying. They go on living, growing older and lonelier; utterly unhappy. Old ones with power? Often try to reclaim their happiness by taking it, forcing it to happen like they do so many other things. It rarely works out for them."

Killian felt a touch of the madness tease his brain, "Because the Fates have twisted senses of humor."

Ariel the Fae looked him square in the eyes, the maelstrom clearing to aqua depths of virgin waters. "It rarely works because they're going about it all wrong." Killian turned his body to face hers, nodding for her to continue. "Happiness is almost always right in front of us. And small at first, because if it was this big loud thing, everyone would be clamoring for it, and never without it. We just have to be wise enough to see it when it's there, strong enough to hold onto it. And brave enough to walk away from other things for it, because happiness is a jealous thing. It'll reward you if you treat it right, but if you neglect it even a little, it'll leave you faster than death can snap your neck. Just think what it could do to you if you walked away from it purposely?"

His jaw clenched repeatedly. Fae riddles were bothersome things, worse when you knew the answer already and had to endure the process anyway.

She turned to the east, pulling the hair over one shoulder, blinking at the morning sun. "Gold will be monitored. We can't rush him; the margin for his escape is too high with that kind of campaign. So the plan is to watch and wait. If he makes a move against you or Emma, we'll know, and he'll be dealt with. In fact he probably already knows he's being watched, so it's likely he'll lay low for a while. If his ending is the happiness you seek, I'll point you in the right direction." She looked to him again, "If the happiness you seek is with Emma, then I think you know the path you need to take."

Killian looked to the spot Cora had returned to the earth. Cora's choices landed her in debt to a devil in a three-piece suit and as charred fertilizer for the tundra, when all she wanted was to be free of the oppression of poverty. "Are you doing this to make up for–"

Ariel held up her hands, "No. No, I doubt you'll ever be able to forgive me for what I made you see and do. I've been in love a few times in my life, and I'd be desecrating each one if I didn't try to help you now."

_Help from a Fae. A siren too for fuck's sake._

Killian looked Ariel in the eyes, let her see the wolf within. She smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm pretty sure that header cost me some folks, but this close to the end, I'm not caring too much. So this was massive. First cut draft was just over 11k words. So what I did was halve it, and flushed the second part a touch. I could have cut parts, but when I brought that up to folks on tumblr, not many were in favor of it. Yay for extra chapter? And sooner than next Friday?
> 
> Barbara Hershey is part Hungarian, so I went with that language for her magic words. 
> 
> A Janbiya is an Arabic curved blade the size of a dagger. (Go Wiki)
> 
> I don’t expect anyone to understand how Tink got unfrozen, so I’ll break it down here. Cora was still out of her element for magic, as it revolves mostly around manipulating others. Like the show. Anyway, she had to rely on totems and boosters to compensate. She used the totem to command Tink to “Stop”. So everything about Tink stopped; movements, her transition between the ether and corporeal form, everything. When Cora commanded, “Reveal”, it brought Tink fully into corporeal. It saved Killian one job at least. Killian pick-pocketed the totem from Cora’s clothes after Cora used the totem to freeze Tink. –It was not the original thing he was after, but he needed Tink if he wanted a chance at killing Cora. – But that means he had to undo the remaining spell. He doesn’t have magic, so it wasn’t just something he could whip out. He rushed her knowing she’d be able to dodge, but he only needed her blood to tap the magic in the totem. He threw it at her, repeating her own original words, and Cora –on reflex– commanded “Dissolve.” It dissolved the totem, and the spell. Now whether it was dissolving of the totem that released Tink, or the fact that he causes the totem to hear the command “Stop, Dissolve”, Killian isn’t too sure on. He’s mostly happy it just worked.   
> (TL;DR: Killian stole the totem, infused it with Cora’s blood, repeated the spell back at her, knowing she’d reflexively move to break it. Thus breaking the spell on Tink.)
> 
> So close to the end.... and so many nervous nellies over it. I have two-bits to say on that. I have been upfront with you guys from the get go. If I was going to make this a tragedy, I would have said so. If this wasn't a CS endgame deal, I wouldn't have called this piece a Captain Swan story. I wasn't specific with what you wouldn't like, but damn, lots of those theories were sailing in from the left field of dramatic. I mean... just a little faith in me please?


	33. …Ends

**Chapter 32**

**…** **Ends**

* * *

_At least I'm not handcuffed to a chair._

However Emma was still restricted to Robin and Regina's tent while Archie tried his damnedest to get her to open up. His concern was genuine, that much was clear; Emma nearly felt bad that she didn't know what to tell him. How would she explain the need to escape reality to a person who has to constantly hide his own? How could she explain that she never expects people to go looking for her when that's all these people have done? How could she explain these things to satisfy everyone else's worry, when she could barely figure them out for herself? Needless to say, Emma sat there with Archie for a long while getting absolutely nowhere, and eventually Doc Hopper let out a sigh and told her he'd let it alone for now. Though he followed it with a solid warning to open up soon, or he'd prescribe actual therapy.

He didn't get up to leave like she thought he would; he kept his place in front of her, eyes narrowing dramatically. "You know you're not in trouble, don't you Emma?"

That she blinked to. "How? I stole Regina's jeep; I exited pack borders and didn't tell anyone."

Doc Hopper tilted his head, more concern knitting the brows together. "Would it make you feel better to be in trouble?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why does the 'how' matter?"

"Call it a learning experience." She deadpanned back.

His mouth turned up a little. "I guess that makes sense. Learning your new boundaries is easier with a frame of reference. As far as steeling the vehicle, all I know is neither the Alpha nor his mate have reported it stolen. Can't charge you with anything if no one is accusing you. The borders though, well that took some fancy footwork. Technically, the Nomads don't have any official borders since they move around. You can't leave what isn't there. And technically, the farmhouse you were found at _is_ within Brookside's borders. Given the back and forth you've done with the full moons and the recent storm, residing within their borders at any given time wouldn't be unheard of, further supported by the fact that you still have time allotted to stay with them."

Emma blinked, letting her eyes go wide.

Doc Hopper leaned forward on his forearms. "More so Emma, this isn't prison. Nobody would expect you to stay somewhere that wasn't helping you heal. We all need to break a few times during a recovery process. The fact that you took this long to have one of this size was causing some of your people serious worry." He held up a hand, "Not that we're expecting a quivering mess to coddle, but you can't be Super-Emma all the time."

Emma blew out a breath. "Wow, you guys aren't nearly as bad as the system I grew up in."

He chuckled. "We've had to learn how to deal with skewed realities and the effects they instigate. Don't get me wrong though Emma. Understanding we might be, but you still have yet to choose a pack. Until you are officially within the ranks of one, you are still a threat to the secrets you know. The Council will not hesitate to silence you if this were to be a permanent problem. And since you passed already on staying with Alpha Humbert, you've cut short the time you were first given by six weeks. We don't have a roll over plan."

The numbness returned slowly up from her fingertips. Her skin felt like it had grown scar tissue too thick for the nerve endings to reach through. Being reminded of not having a home can do that to a person. The worst part was the guilt prickling the surface of her brain for thinking she had no home. Granny would never turn her away, Ruby and Graham would outright adopt her, even David and Mary Margaret seemed to have a similar train of thought. Robin and Regina acted content enough to simply let her exist, but sleeping on the ground (camping mattresses only go so far) wouldn't work for her body much longer. Emma knew her choice. Hell, she'd known it after the first full moon at Graham's place. She just wasn't ready to make that call and usher in the future, not when she couldn't seem to let go of the recent past yet.

_"…we'll be in each other's company exclusively for the better part of who knows how long. I suggest against starting the journey with lies." Thanks brain, I really needed to hear him right now. Bitch._

She sat up straighter, rubbing her numb fingers over her face. "If it's possible, I'd like to remain here for whatever time I have left with them. That is, if I'm welcome still."

Regina burst through the flap. "Don't be absurd, of course you are." She gave Doc Hopper a sour look, "If you're finished?"

Archie Hopper was a pale-skinned ginger. Round glasses, only popular during the sixties and post-Hogwarts, perched snuggly on the bridge of his nose. Chin and brow weak against most –if not all– the males in the camp. Dressed in clothes more suited to a British college professor in the 1970's. Kind, sweet, unassuming man stood to his full height meeting Regina completely in the eyes. The man who bared his neck to David at the barest hint of upset, glowered at the woman who contorted a man's body for daring to touch Emma for all of a half second. Doc Hopper was taller by a few inches, not counting his curly hair, but simply did not command the same fear Regina did.

It made the display all the more impressive.

"Emma Swan and I are done, when she says we are done, not when you decide otherwise."

It was obvious there was bad blood between the two, and lord knew Emma wasn't ready to jump into _another_ problem she had nothing to do with. And while Regina hadn't been harmful to Emma, Archie's sudden defensive loyalty surprisingly touching; not that she had a clue as to how she earned it. Regina let one eyebrow slide upwards slowly, looking equally bored and annoyed with the shifter's display. It was a look Emma was the recipient of quite often. But from this angle, Emma was able to catch the click of the woman's jaw, the twitch of her ear, and the clench of her hand. Little tells that a person wouldn't normally see when they're focused on the face, or more specifically, anywhere but the face. Regina was impeccable with her facial expressions, never showing what she didn't want to show. And while her body was trying to show the truth, Regina had obviously trained herself to restrain the tics as much as possible, catching the leaking emotions wherever they manifested. Emma focused hard on the woman then, soaking up everything she could, loving that she was getting an open read on someone so regulated. And if Emma was reading Regina correctly, Regina was far from irritated with Archie. No, this woman was impressed.

_Now there's a secret I could use…_

Emma stood up, "I think I'm good for now Doc Hopper. Reception is crap out here, and I'm not a fan of in depth conversations… well… at all, but less so over the phone. Maybe we can schedule another visit in a couple weeks down at Brookside?"

He didn't pull away from staring Regina down, "I'll make room in my schedule, just pick a day Emma."

Emma nodded. "Yeah… I'm… I'm sorry for being so much trouble."

That broke him; he took a half step back and spun to face her. (Regina let out a slow breath.) "You? Trouble? Nah. Totally understandable what you did and why you did it." He moved in front of her, reaching for her hands, grasping them when she didn't back away. "Keep up hope that things will get better. Even if it's only a little bit of hope. You're a strong woman Emma, you can get through whatever you choose to, you just have to allow it. I'll leave word with Robin about letting you down to Brookside if you need to call for whatever reason at any time. Even just to scream."

He walked by Regina with his head held up, eyes straight ahead. No tilt, no aversion… no submission… back long and straight like someone fused a steel rod to his spine. Emma almost missed the quirk to Regina's lips.

_Yeah… she's impressed…_

Regina snapped her fingers in the air. "Earth to Emma. Now that the shrink is gone, you mind telling me just what in the hell you were thinking taking off like that?"

Emma breathed. "I was just overwhelmed, and that got me angry cause I'm really tired of feeling out of control. And I tend to take off when I feel those two things at the same time."

Regina laid her hands on her hips. "Well it was stupid. You could have gotten hurt and it would have taken us far too long to find you and help."

"Wouldn't that just make it easier for everyone?" It was mostly under her breath, but Emma wasn't thinking about super-wolf-hearing just then.

Regina growled. On a startled shout, Regina lifted Emma by the shoulders into the air. Eyes purple and nostrils flared. "No! It wouldn't be easier on everyone! We didn't risk two packs, three Alphas, and the weight of more memories than you could fathom for an idiot better off dead."

And just as quick, Emma was dropped back to her feet and Regina was pacing the tent. "Easy Regina, I didn't mean I wanted to be dead, I'm not suicidal. If I were, I would have provoked Walsh and Cora the first day I was there. I was talking about all the trouble everyone is going through to get me better… and I can't help but think that it's going slower than it should. That maybe I need to be alone for a while."

Regina stopped, scowling at Emma again. "You've been made aware of the rules Miss Swan."

Emma held up her hands. "I know… I know. I just don't like them, and I'm starting to think the rules don't like me either."

Regina sighed, closing in on Emma once more, but with a gentler hand on the arm to direct them both back into the chairs. "I know… _we_ know that you won't choose to stay here Emma. It was obvious the first week. This latest stunt made it obvious to everyone where you want to be."

"And where do I want to be?" The look Regina gave wasn't entirely polite. "What? Killian's place? You think I want to be with him? After he left me behind?"

"Oh please Miss Swan, you know damn well by now that he didn't leave you behind without reason, and you wear his sweater to bed."

"It's the only one I have, and I wasn't the one to pack my bags."

"And you end up smelling like him the rest of the day, effectively cutting off any wolf within his dominance range." Emma moved to argue more, but Regina waved her off. "Fine, if not to keep him around you in some way, then why wear his undershirts too? They're too big to properly block out the cold, and you have plenty of your own clothing." Emma opened her mouth, closing it with a click. Regina's face softened though, "Like Doctor Hopper said, we understand the need to take off. I've done it more than once in my life; with stronger outbursts before _and_ after. You held out so long, we honestly thought the break was going to be violent." Emma chuckled a bit thinking of August's nose. "I mean it Emma, I thought Snow was a stubborn woman, but you take it to new levels. Did you even stop to consider where you ran to once you had the jeep? You didn't go hide at Brookside, or make your way back to Graham or Granny. You didn't run to any major city or go anywhere you were more familiar, or anywhere where you could be completely anonymous and alone as you said." Emma's skin began to tingle like blood was rushing just under the surface. "You ran to _his home_ Emma. That isn't just some coincidence."

Emma shook her head hard. "No, it was just the closest place I could think of where I would be alone before it got too dark."

"Oh don't give me that bullshit Emma. I know you grew up in the foster system. You've lived in harsher places and with scarier people than we've got here; and all before puberty. You aren't scared of driving at night over unknown roads. Furthermore, you could have wandered off into the woods and achieved the same thing in less than fifteen minutes. You took the jeep and you went to his house. And you went there because it was _his_ house."

Emma put her head in her hands. She hated this conversation more than she could say; only topped with the hatred of how often it was brought up. "Fine… whatever. Doesn't mean what you think it means, but whatever."

Regina shoved Emma's hands away; yanked Emma's chin, forcing Emma to look at purple eyes. " _You_ don't tell _me_ what I think… you have no idea what I think. To wolves, what you did speaks volumes to what's in your head, even if you aren't listening. Territory has a big impact on everyone, even humans; _anyone_ feels stronger and more capable in their own space, be it home or open land. You didn't run to your apartment in New York, you ran to his home; you ran to land you felt safe in. Before all this, you spent a grand total of ten hours there Miss Swan, which means the impact it had on you was stronger than anything New York ever gave you. You've made your choice Miss Swan, you made it a long time ago, you just aren't ready to admit it to yourself yet."

Emma wondered if Regina expected revelation and tears; Emma's cried plenty over the last six months, but this wouldn't be one of those moments. "Still means nothing. Whatever choices I'm making consciously or subconsciously, he's made some too, and they weren't me."

Regina looked like she was ready to start hitting something, Emma wasn't sure if she should be proud of herself for being able to push the woman like that. "You cannot be this dense Miss Swan. Do you really think he'd leave you unless it was absolutely necessary? You weren't here those couple weeks. And frankly neither was he. He lost all identity, he spoke in riddles like a Fae, he could barely keep to one form; usually some sort of middle point between wolf and man. We had to lock him in an underground cell intended to contain Fae because he kept getting out of the regular cells. You got out and away from Walsh, but he wasn't the only threat. Killian is out there, taking care of one of those threats. _For you._ "

Emma froze. "Should you even be telling me this?"

Regina's eyes went wide, "Like I care."

Emma nodded, "Ok… fine… he's still on the job. He's sent word to everyone but me, explain that one. And try explaining how –with The Council's orders of me integrating with a pack and marrying someone within– would we even have a chance?"

Regina sat back, "Now you're just nitpicking. There are always loopholes, and if you want to keep it legal, there is always Appeals Court. When you're ready to admit what you want, Robin and I will back you. And you know Graham and Ruby will too. If we can't get The Council to work with us, then we'll just have to figure out how to work around them. But until you're ready for all that, you can stay here. I know it's not perfect, but the routines can be distracting in their monotony. And sitting out in the wild can give you plenty of time to sit and deal with things in your head –which, by the way, you should start doing. You might be able to run and hide from us, but you can't escape your own head. Take advantage of what's around you."

* * *

She'd never admit it, but Regina was right. (Woman had an ego that could rival Killian's; Emma didn't see feeding it as a wise choice.) There was a spot out far enough from camp where the sounds dulled away to mingle with the forest's. The trees weren't so packed in that they blocked the sun, but the underbrush was thick with leafy green things that made the place feel enchanted. The stream was close enough to provide enough white noise that dozing off wouldn't be hard to do, and large rocks provided (mostly) flat surfaces that she already had plans to utilize. John had had been the one to show her the location and escorted her to almost immediately when she asked if he knew of one; told her he'd be nearby as a wolf in case she needed him for anything. It wasn't hard to miss the slight blush the man took on, or the stuttered retreat as if he had more to say. Emma blinked, not sure if she saw the start of a crush or if the large man was just generally bashful about nakedness. She wasn't sure if she really wanted to know either way. The spot though, well that was something she'd have to figure out a proper thank you for. Drag his clothes to Brookside for a proper wash, or maybe buy a steak just for him –maybe half a cow. Emma was already planning out what she'd start bringing with her on little field trips should she have time to kill; a thick blanket, thermos of coffee, the idea of reading Princess Bride out here had Emma nearly groaning with happiness.

_Why wait?_

Emma sprung up from her little perch, keen to retrieve her items and lose herself in a familiar world. Alerting John was a passing thought quickly dismissed on the grounds that she'd be back anyway, and he probably was already following her. The Pop Tarts hidden under her underwear flashed in her head and she suddenly couldn't wait to ruin her dinner. There was a certain giddiness to her step, the kind usually associated with children and forts and the secrecy attached. She wasn't willing to attach any of the lightness to her most recent breakdown. She wanted this to be a pure memory, lord knows she hadn't had enough of those in recent months, and the prospect of one was like bread to a starving man.

Her giddy step, the weightlessness of her consciousness… came to a thudding stop to watch a skinny man backing his way out of her tent. Pop Tarts opened, munching away at one already.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

The man had the gall to stand there looking like he was within full rights to raid her tent. "Getting me supper is what." He held up half a Pop Tart, looking at it sourly. "This one looks likes someone's already had a nibble though." He looked back at her, popping the food in his mouth, chewing with his mouth slightly open.

There were bubbles in Emma's bloodstream, popping and bursting and– "Put. My food. Down."

His eyebrows rose, "Well I could ya see, but I'm a touch hungry, and…" He took another bite, smiling as Emma flinched forward. "Finders Keepers."

She glared, cocking her head to the side as her hands rose to her hips. "Really? Playground rules?"

"Luv, I'll abide by any rules that gets me what I want."

"Fine. I can be nine years old too. I'll just go tattle to Robin and Regina."

He held the food out in front of him, "Oi c'mon. That's hardly fair innit? Calling out to the both of them, knowing damn well it would bring John about as well?"

"Then I would suggest putting my food down."

He heaved a sigh that was almost too much. "Alright, alright. No need to twist your knickers." He bent forward, placing the food just inside her tent. But that wasn't what Emma saw. Emma's eyes were glued to his backside and the telltale bulge of a book crammed down the waist of his jeans.

_Sonofabitch._

"Now I know I have a delectable arse luv, but could you stare at it with a touch less malice in your face? You're makin me a bit nervous."

Emma could swallow a lot of bitter and jagged pills these days. Crazy wolves, relocation after relocation, people convinced Killian was more… well just _more_. She'd adjust and relearn as she went, not like she hadn't learned how long ago. But this asshole was stealing her book.

_Oh… OH!_

"Your that wolf that's been stealing from me!"

His smile was a bit crooked, going up on one side and she nearly hated him for it. "Is that what I was doin then? Goodness me, right naughty boy I've been. You've helped me see the error of my ways; I'm a reformed man now! I'm going to go on and think on what I should do with me life now that it's been turned around." He spun, moving to walk away.

_Like hell…_

Emma grabbed a rock from the ground, lobbing it to the back of his head before he managed five steps. "All of it Scarlet."

"I might be a werewolf, but that doesn't mean shit like that doesn't hurt! So excuse me for not hearing what you just said over the church bells sounding in my head." She threw another rock, missing him by a couple feet as he ducked out of the way. "Oi! Really woman, I didn't hear you!"

"Give back all of it!"

"I did, right there on the ground in front of ya! Don't tell me you're as blind as those disco glasses you got in your tent suggests."

She fumed knowing he had been through her cigar box. "The book too Scarlet, I see it shoved down your pants."

He froze, giving a quick glance over his shoulder. When he looked back to her, his look was far too calculating for the personality Emma pegged him for. "I swear to you girl, the only things down me pants," He gave his hips a swish, "Are things that belong to me. Though I wouldn't be against sharin if you asked me politely."

"Keep it up, and I'll fake tears when I accidentally let this incident slip to John and Robin."

"Gotta prove it first luv. It'll be your word against mine."

Emma huffed. "Did I hit a soft spot on your head? Robin will be able to tell if you're lying."

A grin –too like Killian's– spread his face. "Tellin the truth is a bit like painting a picture. Say I tell people I painted a rose red, you call me liar and tell them I painted it maroon. Both of us would be right, wouldn't we? Tellin the truth is all about the shades of it you use, and how specific you want to be. So you tell Robin how I offered you what was in my pants, I counter with the fact that I had a book tucked into the waist. And there, we'd both be right. Except I'm ahead of the game cause you're tryin to fake tears; which _is_ a form of lyin if you're keepin up."

Emma's brain wasn't firing like it should have been. It should have been remembering rules and _thinking_. Instead, she was angry and pushed passed a few limits. She wasn't turning away her eyes, she was purposely antagonizing a werewolf, and there wasn't chance she was planning on backing down. Less so when her feet were already charging her forward. Will reacted as she moved, and if she were thinking, his running away would have stopped her. Instead, she chased him like she would any other idiot that ran off when she confronted them. She didn't even notice that she was keeping up, that she shouldn't be keeping up with a werewolf. Will ran on through the main part of the camp, darting around the other wolves and over workstations laid out on the ground like a memorized obstacle course. At least the wolves stepped out of the way when it was Emma's turn to barrel through, saying nothing and offering no help as she cried out for someone to stop the asshole that stole her book. At the edge of camp he veered up a trail, gaining a little more distance on her. She followed, losing ground as it turned uphill and her body fought the exertion it had forgotten. She crested the climb, skidding to a stop just as Will shrugged the last of his clothes off.

"I figured if my dangly bits were no longer in my pants, maybe you'd stop chasin me for 'em."

Emma held up a hand to block the offending body parts from view. "Dude! What the fuck?"

"Unless, havin 'em out just makes you want 'em more? Christ woman, there's no winnin with ya."

"I just want my book. I already have to sterilize it after it touched your bare ass."

But she didn't get an answer. She was given grunts and groans, which led Emma to a moment of dry heaving. She had no clue why he would be doing… _that_ … and honestly she didn't want to know. But if he got anything on her book, she was telling Granny. Just as she was settling on screaming for Regina, the wet pops of bones discovering new ways to position and the gurgling sounds of flesh tearing brought her hand back down. Will wasn't doing the _gross thing_ … he was doing the other gross thing. And becoming a bigger problem.

_"…Couldn't have you pensive and fretting like that love. Would have sparked off a reaction I might not be able to control right away."_

Right. Killian went through this with her, made her calm down before he started, didn't want the wolf to go on the defensive right away. So Emma did what she could to calm down her breathing. She wouldn't be able to stop being angry, but maybe she could slow the heart rate enough where she wasn't the next menu choice after her own Pop Tarts.

_"…Even if I have control,_ _**do not** _ _run. Prey runs."_

Emma glanced back the way she came, the hill looked larger from a higher viewpoint, which meant trying to walk away wouldn't be possible. Momentum would force her into a jog, and going backwards would force her to land on her ass and roll her the rest of the way.

_"…If I can't, then get to the floor. Head down and tilted to the side. Offering the neck is a submissive move."_

If she plopped down here, Will could knock her backwards and make her roll down the hill. He was still in his Change, so Emma walked as softly as she could towards him. Her ears picking up every rip and resettle he was going through, her eyes trained on the ground so she wouldn't break a twig and freak him out over some unknown noise. She chanced a peek at him, trying to gauge how close he was to finishing, but her eyes landed on his clothes just behind him and her book blanketed by his shirt. Wolf or not, she wasn't letting him drool all over her beloved pages. She made her circle wide, wanting to come up on the clothing rather than inch between him and it. Hair sprouted along his skin and Emma knew she had minutes at best before he'd be done.

_Fuck it._

She scurried to his clothes, dropping on top as Will shook out his fur. He didn't look like much as a man. Not much taller than herself, oval shaped head with round eyes. Ears pointed, but not in the elvish way Killian's bent, and sticking out comically from his head. But Will Scarlet as a wolf was beautiful. He had the traditional markings of a wolf; gray undercoat to the soft white on top gave him a thick and fluffy appearance. His eyes were a yellowish green that should have been on a flower petal instead tinting his irises. The urge to reach out and stroke him like she would a puppy was compelling, right until his massive head rounded on her, a snarl curling his lips to find her so close.

_Fuck…_

Emma huddled down, trying to make herself as small as possible. She did the best she could to show him that she acknowledged his teeth with a turn of her head, but she couldn't tilt to expose her neck and play submissive; he had stolen her book, she couldn't let him think he could get away with it because he was scarier. Wil the Wolf stepped slowly, a rumble sounding deep within his chest, making Emma flinch. Of course she flinched, childish asshole that he was as a human was still scary as a wolf. A glob of drool landed on her thigh, soaking the thick rough cut of denim. She wanted to whimper, wanted to cry out… stopping only on the idea that he might kill her before the sound could be eaten out of her throat. Hot breath dusted her face, the outline of the book pressing into her ass underneath her…

A third party arrived with their own deep rumble. Will shifted to face it, crossing by Emma, placing himself between her and this new thing. Emma angled her head to take a look at the new thing. New thing was deep brown, and roughly the size of a bear. Will the Wolf made a series of yapping and whining sounds, which only served to make the bear like thing growl harder. Will didn't let up, running off at the mouth much as he done as a human. Emma hadn't a clue what was going on, or why Will thought he could reason with the bear-thing.

Emma thought of scooting backwards on her ass to inch away from the impending fight. Bear-thing decided that was the perfect moment to charge. Emma wondered if anyone would be able to hear her screams over the sounds of wild things fighting.

* * *

Once more Killian Jones stood before The Council. This time flanked by Ariel and Tink, to report on his assignment, and to receive their final judgement on this whole botched business. They hadn't bound him to the chains this time; Killian wondered if it would be too much to hope that this gathering would turn in his favor, though he was honestly just ready for it to be over. So of course they made him wait where he stood for fifteen minutes as they looked over the documented reports they likely had already memorized.

_Bureaucratic bastards._

Instead of asking questions to open, the Sorcerer strode in front of him and his colleagues, three Dreamcatchers in hand, one for each of them. Over their heads the feathers ghosted, and though he couldn't say for the Fae women, Killian's brain felt like someone was stirring a hot poker inside his skull. Before his face could even wince in pain, the feeling was gone, and the Sorcerer was moving away. His magic rippled the room, levitating the memory stealers in the air, turning himself into a living projector. It was a bad movie, bad editing, poor lighting… but watching Cora die again at the end was bloody brilliant.

The Blue Star looked up to the three of them, finally conceding to acknowledge their presence. "Good work. I hate to think of anyone as truly expendable, but the world is better off without Cora Mills in it. Ariel, Green–"

Tink angrily huffed, "I have a name you know."

The Blue Star glared, "–You have our gratitude and the prior discussed compensation has been given. You are free of this task with the thanks of The Council assembled." They both nodded, but remained firmly at Killian's side. "That was your dismissal; please vacate the room so that we may finalize Killian's trial."

Ariel leaned forward and looked over Killian to Tink, who had yet to stop scowling at The Blue Star. Tink took a step forward, "It was a group effort. We stand by the werewolf as he receives his compensation and final verdict."

The Blue Star's voice grew hard, "That is not for you to decide nor is it any of your business."

Tink raised her hand, twiddling her fingers like she was tickling the vacant space above her. A booklet dropped in the lap of each Councilmember. "If you'll all turn to the earmarked page, you'll find highlighted passages for your consideration. You'll please note that these words printed are accepted truth by this and previous Councils, outlined in Written Law." Her fingers twiddled again, and another booklet thudded down on the Councilmembers. "Again, turning to the earmarked pages and highlighted sections, you'll please note that these are the recently accepted truths of Killian's interactions with his Council appointed handler, one Cora Mills. While, yes, that woman was an evil creature and recently deceased, you've all agreed that Killian Jones carried on as he would with any handler. Therefore, his service cannot be negated due to her betrayals. You'll see on the second and third pages of the second booklet, the many requests made by Killian Jones for retirement and even a few petitions for Pack Initiation over the few hundred years in service to you. Every single one has been denied. Now, returning to the first booklet, under section G, any demands made to a handler must be passed along to The Council in service for review. Should the handler fail to do so, the request can then be made directly to The Council in service for review by the being themselves. Subsection 3.A states that should the requests be denied on the whims of the handler in the name of The Council in service, the being making the petition is allotted one request –effective immediately– once every twenty-five years. Returning to the second booklet, third page from earmark, paragraph four, you'll note the various requests made by Killian Jones during his service under the handler Cora Mills. Subsection 2 lists the requests that never made it to Council records." The Reul Ghorm blinked impassively, so Tink finished off her bombardment. "Whatever compensation this Council has deemed proper for this last assignment _will_ include one of those requests without hesitation."

The Lower Fae, the Sorcerer, the Giant, and Ruth Nolan were all sipping their waters or coughing behind fists in attempts to stifle their laughter. All Killian could do was wonder how the hell Tink managed to pull all that paperwork together since she barely left his side the entire hunt. He assumed the siren might have been the culprit, but that was too much for his head to hold on to. _Not when…_

Ruth cleared her throat pointedly, grabbing the attention of The Blue Star. Blue nodded once, "Of course." She faced him again. "We obey the Law. Killian Jones, it is the reasoning of this Council that your actions regarding Miss Emma Swan are punishable to the full extent of the Law. Allowing her life led to chaos and exposure to our world. Her life, and yours, are hereby deemed forfeit to the final decision of this Council." Killian felt the floor drop away, leaving him floating in the room. Madness, he reasoned, was always an interesting ride. Blue held up her hand as lightning cracked where a red head had stood next to him. "However, the life of Miss Emma Swan and the exception to the stipulation of a required marriage into her chosen pack, was granted as compensation for your continued efforts to capture Cora Mills. Pending Miss Swan's formal integration to a pack, a stay of execution will be placed. We cannot remove the order entirely until this Council is assured of her acceptance to her new life. It is also the decision of this Council that given you were working loyally under the direction of corruption; your actions cannot be held entirely against you. A soldier can only do as it's told after all. Therefore, your death would not balance out the mayhem your actions brought. If nothing else, it exposed the cancer Madam Mills brought into our ranks and allowed this Council the opportunity to expunge it before it spread too far. For that, and aiding this Council in your most recent hunt, your life is granted." Tink breathed and muttered some fairly colorful words. "Now, as far as these requests, we obey the Law. And as _Tinkerbell_ so pointedly showed us, you are allotted one request effective immediately." The Blue Star thumbed back through the booklet, "I'm seeing a few different ones listed here. Remember, you can always submit new requests for review, but this is the only one that's guaranteed. Choose carefully."

Killian's vocal cords weren't working. There hadn't been a need once the Sorcerer had projected the events of Cora's death rather than the usual questions The Council enjoyed to volley at him. Then the damned woman taunted him with Emma's death and his vocal cords had shifted with the chance of a change in the air. Now, with the whole room staring at him and his whole future laid out like cards on the table for him to pick for himself, Killian only had one word to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Between work and youngin, the final chapter just wasn't doing what I want fast enough. So I held onto this bit instead of posting over the weekend so there would still be something to give you guys today. If I manage to keep the word vomit contained, next week will be the last chapter.


	34. Give Us a Hug Goodbye…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Good News: I found a way to curb my word vomit! Bad News: It takes a brush with unemployment to do it. Everything's sorted now. So I hope everyone can forgive me the radio silence while I focused on that and taking care of what writing I managed. Middle News: (cause I'm not sure if it's good or bad) I planned on making this last chapter, the absolute last no matter how big it got. 17k words later, I revised that decision. So double post?

**Chapter 33**

**Give Us a Hug Goodbye…**

* * *

Emma wondered, from time to time, if there was a lasting problem with her now that she only seemed to feel a sense of peace when someone else was calling the shots for her, that she had become exactly what Walsh had wanted from her. Here she was, once more having the burden of choice lifted from her shoulders, and all she felt was grateful for it. She wondered if it mattered that each time one of these wolves took a choice from her, it helped her breathe instead of causing her to stubbornly plant her feet and do a she pleased. She wondered if there would be problems now that she wanted to start making choices on her own; not everyone liked giving up the power they have over someone else, no matter how small it was. Like with all things, Emma had thrown herself into the repetitious lifestyle the Nomads afforded her, retreating to her new little haven whenever she could. The time eased by in a blur of sameness marked by the occasional interruptions of John's bashful stories of his human youth and the eight children his wife had borne him before he reached the age of twenty-five. The stories always eluded to how much he missed the companionship his woman had brought him. Subtle, and yet… not… but sweet all the same. If not the stories, then the marks were wild flowers Will always seemed to find, bound in a string or ribbon, and left in her tent when he couldn't manage to hand them directly to her. He never explained the flowers, simply delivered them however he might that day.

She thought it was just such a delivery when footsteps invaded her glen and chapter. "Will, I asked you to not bug me here… you _know_ John has a problem with you showing up when I'm alone." Her answer was a chuckle, so Emma lay the woven strings of previous flower bundles along the page, huffing her annoyance for good measure. Looking up revealed a man standing with his hands on hips and a knowing smile curling his mouth. "Oh… Robin… hi…"

He held up a hand when Emma moved her legs to stand up. "No, I think I'll come over and join you if that's alright."

Emma settled back down, waving her hand to the open space around her. "Not my woods."

He laughed again, "Not mine either, if you wish to be technical. So John has a problem with Will being near you?"

"It's not like that, he's just wary because of that misunderstanding last month."

"Of course… has nothing to do with the flowers Will gives you."

Emma stuttered. She hadn't told anyone, and she made John and Will promise to keep the information to themselves. "Will's just sorry for doing what he did."

"Ah. And which part of the things Will has done would the flowers attribute to?"

Emma eyed Robin with new interest, Will stealing things from her tent had only been mentioned to Regina. _Married couple… right…_ "Regina told you he'd been stealing from me."

"Actually no. I told him to do that."

Emma stared, soundly dumbfounded. "I'm sorry, the hell did you just say?"

"Hmm? Oh. I told Will to take things from your tent."

She stuttered again, looking to the foliage for answers they couldn't give. "Wh– But– WHY?" Robin grinned while tucking in his bottom lip. "You _promised_ no one would do that. You swore!"

He popped down next to her, arms folded and legs stretched out in front of him. "I did do that didn't I?" He looked at her sideways, "I suppose I should explain myself, since he did take it a bit too far. Of which I apologize; Will can get a little exuberant with his tasks. Especially when they involve pissing people off."

"You _wanted_ him to make me upset?"

Robin's face twisted into a scowl. "No! Of course not." He settled against the rock behind him. "I wanted him to piss you off."

"I'm going to start sounding like Roland if you keep making me ask why."

Robin chuckled. "I've been keeping a close eye on you Emma. Watching your progress, noting when anything would push you; for good or worse. More often than you would think, I was somewhere nearby. I said I had wolves up here that would see you as an opportunity they normally wouldn't get, and I didn't want them thinking they could press upon that opportunity without your consent… or mine. And you were doing so well so quickly. Semi-isolation gave you the freedom to be numb when you needed to be numb. But then there was that day the men pressed on the opportunity, and what you did scared Regina and I to death."

"Wait what? I didn't do anything!"

Robin nodded. "Exactly. Regina was so close to losing her control… you know she's a fusion like her mother? Wolf and Witch? It's why she's so detached from everything most of the time, if she loses control it's not just an angry wolf on our hands; her power tends to run on the flammable side of things. But that was when we started noticing you were trying your hardest to be passive, submissive even."

"I thought that was what I was supposed to do with these guys. Behavior problems and all that… don't provoke them… blah blah blah."

"No, you're not supposed to provoke them, but you aren't supposed to be meek either. I was there when David and Snow presented you to the packs Emma, remember? You strode in there like you owned the place. And I know what you pulled between August and Killian that night. You didn't show passivity or any variation of submissive behavior then. I took the time to ask Ruby and Graham what you were like when you first found out, they told me you were almost challenging them openly. Passive and submissive aren't your normal inclinations, so the fact that you were doing it at all was cause for concern. I had to pull rank on Graham to keep him in New York because the very idea of you like that pushed him to new limits."

"Ok… so what does that have to do with Will?"

"I don't know if you caught that he was there when Regina broke Claude's arm…"

"I heard him, didn't see him."

"I see… well that explains the reaction when you saw him coming out of your tent. Either way, I had pulled Will home to help with you. He has certain skills that would have helped you anyway, but that day with Claude shifted what I needed out of Will. At first, I was going to have him pal up with you and get you into trouble. Remind you that there are good times to be had when breaking the rules; we have so many you see, I didn't want you to feel that packs were always so rigid. And then you showed us that you were still scared."

Emma jumped on her feet. "I'm not scared of you guys! How many times do I have to say it?"

Robin quirked a brow. "You've not said a word like that to me, John, or Regina. Who did you say that to?"

Emma sighed. "Ruby. Right after The Council's trials. She said I was scared of her because I have a hard time being touched now."

"That's not what I was let in on. Miss Lucas told me you showed fear anytime she became forceful or demanding."

"Well I… I mean…"

"Like that. And it tracks. You let Miss Ruby dictate what belongings you hauled along with you. You studied because Regina said so; you followed John –whom you had just met– because Regina said so. You barely got the word 'don't' passed your lips at a volume even we could hear. You, at some point, became scared of standing up to a wolf."

"No… I stood up to Graham's second, Quinn. Threw a knife at him right at the dinner table."

Robin chuckled. "Yes I was told of that moment too. Made us all hopeful, and the only reason I made the choice I did with Will. However, you weren't standing up for yourself in that matter, it was for Ruby. When it's been for yourself, you seem to take whatever you're given. That isn't your personality… it isn't you. And we want you, not a shell of you. We're not expecting you to be as if nothing had ever happened, but we do want you fighting for what you want and _to be_ what you want."

"I'm still not seeing how Will ties into this."

"He's exactly like his legend Emma; he's a thief through and through. So instead of you two thieving together, I told him to steal from you. Slowly and small at first, make you angry and make you fight for your things. Why do you think no one moved in to help you the day you chased him through the camp?"

Emma slumped down on a rock, "But it wasn't even my book he had with him like I thought it was. Why did he go through all that? Why not just show me it wasn't mine?"

"When he finally found something you were fighting for? The man had stolen your undergarments right in front of you and you did nothing. He ate your nibbles right in front of you, and the most you looked was irritated. I don't know why that book means so much to you, but I'm forever glad it does. The simple idea of him having it pushed you to stand up to a freshly changed wolf. You're going to need that as much as you're going to need knowing when to tattle to the higher wolves in charge."

"Ok… so then why did John fight him that day? If this was all some grand plan…"

"Why Miss Swan, do you think I'm trying to deceive you now?"

The humor worked, right in line with his mockingly shocked face; the fluttering hand to his chest was more of a bonus. So her smile was a bit reluctant. "I'm just wondering why John attacked Will if his antics were all orchestrated."

Robin cocked his head to the side. "I would have thought that was fairly obvious by now Emma."

Emma shuffled in place; it wasn't the answer she wanted. She didn't subscribe to the concept of giving out false hope. The benefits were temporary at best, and everyone ended up hurt in the end. And after all the help John had been to her, she wasn't happy with the idea that she had facilitated it within him.

Robin's voice softened. "He expects nothing. None of them do. Not when Killian is so far gone with you."

Emma dropped her head to her hands. "God not you too! Wait… _Killian_ so far gone with _me_?"

Robin scoffed. "Of course he is. You didn't think he dragged you along everywhere he went was because he had to, did you? I know what August told you, and he was right. Killian could have handled you and Walsh with far more detachment than he did. Could have done just over half of it from a distance and kept the bad guys guessing where he was and if he was close enough to strike. But he never even came to that thought process. His wolf decided fairly early on that the only way you could be safe was if they were nearby. They chose you."

"There's that mate thing again. I really wish someone would just break down and tell me what it is without using 'we'll tell you later' anywhere in the explanation."

Robin laughed. "I can only imagine how frustrating that is. The mating aspect of our lives is instinctual for us; it's not something we really think about. It's also on the heavy side of conversation topics, and I think everyone is more worried about overloading you at this point. Though if I'm to judge with just that reaction, I'm going to say that plenty of people have talked about you and Killian as mates without explaining why. Which isn't fair to you. Sadly, I'm the worst person to try and break it down for you; I've been a wolf too long to remember any other way. You should ask Snow; she's only recently Changed. She was raised with both versions of pairings, and has now experienced both sides of being mated to a wolf."

"You said none of them expect anything from me, there are more than John?"

Robin smiled. "You didn't think you could walk into any one of our packs and not get a proposition or two did you? There is a fair amount, but three that have openly said they don't care if the mate connection is ever made. They just want to make sure you're taken care of. So if Killian continues his idiocy after his current business is finished, you won't be faced with finding a partner that wants more than what you can give."

"Continues his idiocy?"

A scowl turned Robin's face sour. "Being a right git he is. I told him keeping his distance would only cause problems." Robin rubbed his hands over his face. "I've known that man longer than any other wolf; he's just scared, he'll get over it. Even if I have to beat it out of him." He perked up and looked over his shoulder to the empty trees, angling his head like a dog listening to invisible sounds. "I apologize for making this abrupt, but it seems another matter is going to need my attention. If you'll excuse me?"

"Yeah… sure…" Emma was a bit dazed; Robin had dropped a puzzle in her lap with no picture of reference to help put the pieces together.

"Go easy on my boys Emma." Robin was gone before she knew what he was talking about.

_Was there any part of my life that wasn't planned out by five other people? I wonder who was on_ _**that** _ _committee and how do I file my complaints for negligence?_

Behind her, there were loudly placed footsteps and exaggerated clearing of throats. Two of them. Their hypersensitive ears must have been burning because walking deliberately slow and clumsy toward her were Will and John. One mystery solved however small it might be. Will's face was tilted down as he watched her from under his brow, his eyes big and wary while his mouth formed a sheepish smile. He knew he wasn't a favorite, even after all the attempts to make it up to her. (Though she gave him credit for trying, there had been a crate of Pop Tarts waiting for her only a week from when he first stole a few bites.) John didn't look any better with his nervous energy bouncing off of him. Together they looked like a couple of boys out to ask the head cheerleader to prom.

_Oh no…_

John gave in first. "Hey Emma… uh… are you doing ok? You look like someone just told you the truth about tooth fairies."

Emma blinked, "Do I even want to know?"

"Ya really don't." Will chimed in, shoving John's arm in obvious signal to shut up. "But ya do look a bit nettled. Anythin we can do for ya?"

Emma tsked, feigning thought. "Hmm… I think I'm good. Just going to enjoy my book and relax before dinner."

Will smirked. "Your book? Do I have to go round camp and see if you've been snatching readin material from other blokes' knickers again?"

"That was your own fault Scarlet; you could have simply shown me what book it was right away and avoided that whole thing."

"And miss out on a good lookin blonde chasing my arse through camp for all to see? Not bloomin likely."

John cleared his throat, stepping closer to Emma and blocking Will from having a clear view over her. "We were told you were thinking of moving on to Brookside soon."

Emma looked to her hands. She had planned on staying her full time with the Nomads, but the urge to move again was starting to itch her feet. Better to run with permission than to cause problems. "Yeah… it's been great out here, but I think we all knew I wouldn't be staying. Besides, I'm not getting younger; camping isn't doing much for my back these days."

John shuffled a couple steps closer. "Will you visit us do you think?"

Emma looked up to him, his face full of childlike hope. "Well I wasn't going to be a stranger…"

He nodded, closing the distance and dropping to his knees in front of her. "I know I'm not supposed to ask you directly, but I don't like the idea of going through a few dozen of people to tell you what should be said to your face. I know you don't love me, I never expect you will, so I don't expect any form of affection from you like that. You'd never want for anything, other than a solid roof cause I couldn't abandon Rob. But I'd keep you safe and warm. I would take care of you, and be your friend." She opened her mouth only to have him cut her off. "You don't need to answer, that comes later. I just had to tell you to your face. Let you know my intentions from me, not some third or fourth party."

He reached out and touched her knee with his fingertips; he never touched her more than necessary. But Emma jumped all the same, the topic taking over her reactions. John jumped to his feet and away, giving her space just in case.

Will huffed and smacked John once again. "Did ya lose your brains when you lost your accent John? Proposing to the lady without even properly courtin first? Now she's just going to be skittish every time you come round thinkin you want some sort of an answer. It's a wonder you ever got married as a human."

John rounded on Will, ready to start arguing, just to be interrupted by Robin calling out for him. Will smiled, giving a miniature wave and waggling eyebrows. "Don't you worry mate, I'll keep Miss Emma company. Nothin to worry yourself over at all."

John growled, eyes flashing once before striding off to see what was needed of him. Emma returned to looking at her hands, not altogether comfortable alone with Will Scarlet. His laughter was low and to himself, to an unknown joke; likely one only he knew the punchline to. He plopped himself down next to Emma's legs, seating himself lower than her, and this time she was paying enough attention to know what the gesture meant. He sighed heavily, giving a nod to something in his head as he raised his hands in front of him; splayed wide to show he had nothing in them. He rotated his wrists clockwise, then counter, crossed his forearms, and then back in front of him. This time, his hands held small bouquets of flowers each, tied with colorful string. Without turning to look at her, Will handed them back to Emma.

"You do magic?"

"Luv, at my age, I wouldn't be no thief if I couldn't pull off some sleight of hand."

Emma chuckled, knowing in her youth she would have killed to have the same ability. "I could have sworn I told you to stop giving me flowers. You know it upsets John."

Will shrugged. "Might be why I keep it up. Might be that I was hoping you might come around to liking me for it. Might be that after all you've been through, even if you weren't interested, someone should be showing you how a real man treats a lady. And before you protest, yes, you are a lady. You might have the mouth of a sailor, but you've the grace of someone highborn. And I'm old enough to know the difference good breeding can give."

Emma smiled as she fingered the petals. "Are you going to propose too?"

He nodded again. "I fell in love once, with a beautiful woman named Anastasia. Ponce that I am, I took her out on a night's stroll through some woods and named all the stars I could see after her name. Told her it was the only name worth repeating so often. She was fierce and loving and I thought I would spend the rest of me days with her. Fell hard for that one I did, felt the pull for a mate for the first and only time. Found out as I was trying to court her, that she had a bit of magic. The witchy kind. I paused for maybe a second before I decided I didn't give a wild fuck if she was a bloody Fae. She was it for me. I should have kept my mind quiet, because the Fates decided to intervene and give me that very test. A Fae Lord came, entranced her with power and all the things she never had. Grew up poor you see, like me. Hard to resist being offered the world when you've grown up with nothin. This fancy wanker took my Anastasia down to his Fae court, married her, kept her trapped there for a hundred years. She came back up; not understanding it was what he had done at first. She was right pissed when she did though. He had fostered her abilities while she was down there, and that was the first thing she turned on him with. I think he still has to glamour on his eyebrows… anyway… she ran off with me then. We did all we could to hide from him, tried to find anything to have the marriage dissolved. Had a few children. But the bastard petitioned The Council. Fae marriages are the worst kind of contract to sign; she had no idea what she was getting herself into. It was binding. _Is_ binding, to this day it stands. They issued a few addendums in light of her ignorance to the contracts specifics… gets a few months every hundred years to spend as she pleases, he can't retaliate to any of it or any issue caused by it. If she becomes pregnant by anyone but him during those months, she's granted the pregnancy and first year of the child's life away from him. But otherwise, she's to remain at his side. We both hate it. It was after the fourth visit home that she told me to take on another mate. She rejected me, thinking that since the bond had never been formally accepted via ceremony, I would be able to move on. But I'm a stubborn old wolf; it'll never go away. However, I have taken a wife here and there over the years. I get lonely like anyone else, and not just in the biblical way. A man needs a cuddle now and then too. Anastasia knows, and sends her blessings each and every time."

"Sounds complicated."

"You've no idea Emma. I don't plan on falling in love with you. Not like John has with his schoolboy crush. Not like Killian has with wanting you to be his mate. But I know the place you come from and I know the place you're in. I can be your partner in this. We can be mates –the British version of the word. But you need someone to look after ya, and I'd be an idiot to pass up the chance at spendin more time with a woman such as yourself. We could be the next Bonnie and Clyde if ya like, minus the sex of course. Though I'd never turn down that either–" Emma slapped him up the backside of his head, laughing along with him. He tapped her foot with his knuckles. "Do you think you'll be givin Jones a chance when he shows up for ya?"

Emma shook her head, "I think everyone read more into his actions than what was there. He's not showing up."

Will turned and rested on his knees. "You didn't listen to my story at all did ya? He felt the pull to you, just like I feel it for my Anastasia. I didn't even have to be there to know he felt it. I can sense it well enough just being around you, there's no walking away from it. If he's resisting it for whatever reason, it's only because it might put ya in more shite than he can stop. But knowing Jones like I do? He'll be back for ya, snog ya within an inch of your life, and then make ya wait till the weddin day to make it all official. He's going to want to give you all the time in the world to get fed up with his sorry arse and walk away from him, when he should just allow the pull to pull ya both onto the nearest flat surface for the shag of both your lives."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that."

"Ya shouldn't. I'm speaking from experience. It always seems like a good idea when we're romancing the woman, but what I wouldn't give to have that time back to just have made Anastasia mine when I had the chance. When he comes back, and you decide you want to give him a go, don't wait to make it official. Elope, make babies, hang The Council's edicts."

Emma watched as his eyes flashed with pain. Will Scarlet was a pain in the ass, but he was an honest one. "I make no promises Will, but I hear what you're saying."

"Right. Good. Unless, of course, you want to shag _me_ within an inch of my life… then Jones can sod off until we're both bow legged."

Emma's head fell to her hands, "Jesus Will…"

* * *

There was a small gathering for Emma's departure. John fidgeted in place with his nervous energy again. Will stood there looking bored, but the shifting in his eyes told Emma that he was plotting some mischief again, and soon. Regina stood tall and rigid, one hand lightly holding onto little Roland's, the other gripping tight to Robin's. Her things were already loaded into David's truck waiting down the path where it was wide enough to drive. Emma chose John to say goodbye to first, figuring he'd like to get away and use this energy for something constructive before he exploded on Will next to him. She walked up to him, pulling at her fingers, not exactly sure how to start saying goodbye. It was always easy when you knew you'd see them again, like with Ruby and Graham. But he beat her to it, tentatively handing over a small leather pouch and three flowers.

Emma eyed them. Soft yellowish green centers with the tips bleeding maroon, five petals each. She looked back to John, "Buttercups?"

John nodded happily. "Like your tattoo."

Regina took a step closer, "Actually, that's a _Helleborus Orientalis_. A hybrid specifically. Commonly called the Winter Rose, and highly toxic. Makes people insane, can't even dilute it to make a mild hallucinogenic it's that strong. I know a few spells that use it to summon demons, not that I've tried."

"John… tell me you weren't taking from the Larson's again." Robin sounded more like he was talking to Roland.

John flustered. "They can spare a few flowers, that woman has a greenhouse bigger than any tavern we drank at." He turned back to Emma. "I didn't know it was toxic, I swear. I just wanted to show you a kindness or two. And I know you aren't interested Emma, though I'd be honored if you were, but…" He shuffled a moment more; likely realizing Will was stifling a giggle next to him. "If all I get is a smile from you for the effort, then I've gotten more than I deserve."

Robin's jaw dropped in the corner of Emma's vision, Regina's eyes went wide. Emma's bottom lip trembled a little. She took a deep breath and ducked her head to hide it, but John saw anyway.

"Crap. Shit. I'm sorry… whatever I just said or did… I'm sorry Emma… don't cry on me now, I've no idea how I'll handle it."

Emma waved him off even as his words squeezed out a few tears. "No. No no, John, you're fine. It's just someone else used to talk to me that way."

John looked confused, shaking his head trying to figure something out. "Well then he's an idiot for stopping."

Emma swallowed, admitting something to herself as much to everyone else. "Wasn't his fault… other things pulled him away."

John's eyes blinked while the gears slowly shifted into place. "I see. Well if those things stop pulling him away, and he still isn't talking to you like that… you just tell ol' John. I'll say them all you like instead and pound some sense into his dumbass too."

Emma huffed a laugh, brushing a tear away from her cheek. She looked at him one more time. Big and burly and as loyal as a puppy. "John? Would a hug goodbye be ok?"

He froze, "Are you sure?"

Emma nodded and opened her arms. He was there quickly, his sheer mass enveloping her whole. He bent to get his arms around her waist, lifting her easily once he straightened up. The gathered knew how little Emma sought touch after Walsh, all waiting for her body to begin its rejection. Emma felt it too, the panic and fear that tasted like fish to her, leaping in her stomach vying for the chance to burn up her insides. John didn't let her go, didn't jump away from her like he usually did. He held tight, whispering promises of safety and friendship no matter where she went or who she chose to live her life with. They filtered through her, a warmth that felt like Granny's food eaten in Ruby's bed. A moment with family she hadn't felt in sometime. Ruby and Graham would be jealous it wasn't them when they eventually found out (cause apparently wolves can't keep secrets), but the end result would be a step closer to being better, and Emma was sure they could live with it.

There was goodbyes to still say, so Emma wriggled a touch; John setting her down quickly, hanging on only until she found her balance again. She looked around; Will had left without a sound, bringing out a frown. It worried John more and she had to give him a smile before he accepted her words of being fine. Not wanting to ruin the warmth John had given her, Emma turned and knelt in front of little Roland, who's pout was bigger than her own.

With arms folded in front of him, he glared at her the only way children could. "Momma said you were staying with us."

Emma looked up to Regina, who was carefully studying her fingernails. "Well, the people in charge told me I had to spend time down with David and Snow before I pick the place I want to stay at. I also have to marry someone to be allowed to stay there. John and Will have asked, but I don't love them. And you shouldn't marry someone when you don't love them."

Roland puffed up. "I love you Emma. And I know you love me. I'll marry you and take care of you like Daddy takes care of Momma."

Emma hugged him, snuggling into his riot of curls. "That will be the sweetest offer I'll ever get. But you have to be a grownup to get married kid."

Roland pushed out of her arms. "I can wait. You don't have to marry anybody but me. But I won't be mad if you find someone else before I get bigger. Will you at least visit me?"

Emma nodded vigorously. "As often as I can. You still have to show me how to make forts out here in the woods."

Roland visibly brightened up. "Ok!" He looked up to his dad, "Can I go play with Will now?"

Robin smiled, "Sure. Just make sure he doesn't get into any trouble."

"Yes Papa!" He tore off without even looking back to Emma.

Emma got back to her feet, looking to Regina and wondering if she'd follow suit and reveal something heartfelt and sweet.

Regina eyed Emma with mild horror. "I don't hug Miss Swan."

Emma chuckled. "Of course not."

But a hand did reach out and squeeze on Emma's shoulder. "Just remember. When you're ready, we'll back you. And if a wolf –I don't care which pack– gives you more trouble than you can handle, you let us know."

Emma's mouth went up on one side, "My own personal army."

Regina snorted. "Hardly. We've put a fair amount of work into you. I won't be having some two-bit mongrel drunk on his own ego meddling with it. And yes, I do include Killian Jones in that. Lord knows that man has ego to spare."

Emma bobbed her head. "Understood."

Regina nodded once. "Good."

Her strides were long and purposeful, her back straight, her hands shaking. Emma smirked at the tell Regina always forgot to hide until it was too late. Big scary lady was going to miss her. Robin cleared his throat next to Emma, signaling the need to move on down to David's truck. The walk was silent, Emma's mind moving with soft thoughts to new friends. The path began to open up, and the silence was breeched with a gentle humming from Robin. It was a moment, but the telltale tune of "Ooh-De-Lally" from Disney's animal version of Robin Hood was definitely coming from _the_ Robin himself. The laugh sputtered its way out, but it wasn't long before she was giggling and he was singing it softly out loud.

"If you like that, you should come back in the spring when the gents and I put on a mini production of _Men in Tights_."

Emma's eyes widened, "You don't…"

Robin chuckled. "We do. And we'll put more effort into it if you're coming around Emma. Your smile and laugh are a tad infectious. I dare say you had John smitten that first day."

Emma felt her smile fade away. "Robin… I never meant to–"

He held up his hands, "I know Emma. He knows it too. For that matter, so does Will. But I don't think Will has anything beyond a fond affection for you. He's a soft spot for kids growing up on the streets and a hero complex for women roughed up, so I think it's my fault he was so eager to help out when I told him what I know of your story. Don't worry about them, whatever you decide; they'll be more than satisfied with it. They truly just want to make sure you are taken care of if Killian doesn't get his head out of his arse and in gear."

Emma snorted. "You keep talking like he's interested. I was his case. He did what he had to, nothing more. I'll admit to things getting personal, but that's common in those situations. I don't blame him for my getting attached."

Robin's hands went to his hips again, the only break in his typical nonchalant demeanor. "Christ above… you're as obstinate as he is. And possibly more obtuse. Though I believe you're doing the latter on purpose. God forbid someone enter your life and _not_ find you wanting. Did you put Ruby and Graham through this too? Don't answer that. I could tell you until the second coming that Killian feels more for you than some stress induced syndrome and more than some primal pull to breed, but you won't hear a word of it until he gets here and proves it. So how about this, you stay in your bubble and tell yourself what you need to tell yourself. Just promise me that when he does show up Emma Swan –and he _will_ show up– stop talking just long enough that you'll give him a chance to prove it?"

Emma was hit with an overwhelming urge to mumble "yes dad". Not something any male had ever brought her to do; even in the nicer foster homes. But when he raised his eyebrows and issued a curt nod, she realized this is what it felt like when a loving father was up to his neck with a teenager's fumbling attempts at important decisions. He was waiting for some form of acknowledgement, though she had no idea how to do that. She hadn't been a very good teenager, and she had no desire to promise something she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to do anyway, but she wanted to please him all the same. Assure him that she could do the right thing or whatever this feeling was.

Robin must have caught onto her confusion the moment she did, raising his hands in surrender and taking a few steps forward. "It's ok Emma, that feeling? It's ok. Interesting, but ok. You've been told about dominance right?" Emma nodded so he took another step closer. "Ok, now… it's normal to feel a submissive attitude to someone who makes you feel protected. Being dominant has very little to do with how well you fight, or how big you might be. Look at me; I'm short by modern standards. So what makes me the strongest? Age is a factor, but just means I've had more time to practice doing it. With wolves –well, werewolves– I could be the scariest one here, but none of them would follow me ever, if they didn't believe I wasn't there to take care of them when they needed it. What you felt was simply what any other wolf would feel when a higher-ranking wolf issued a command. A need to see it through yes? Thankfully, you aren't wolf or pack yet; meaning you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Once you pick a pack though, you will be subject to the chains of command, but for now you can ignore it. It's not common with humans because dominance isn't as clear-cut, but what you're feeling is just a willingness to obey me. Still with me?"

Emma nodded, thoroughly hating that there was a default setting somewhere in her head to obey orders.

Robin closed the distance, laying his hands on her shoulders. "It sounds more frightening than it really is. I just thought since it happened while you were still with me, I should take the time to explain that sensation. You've come so far, I wouldn't want to have you retreat into yourself because I didn't take the time to explain something new. Now. I know you've felt the push, Killian has a habit of throwing it around when he doesn't think anyone is listening. Sometimes he does it to get attention, that boy enjoys the limelight now and then." Emma snorted, Robin wasn't wrong. "Better. I like your smiling face more than the panicked one. The push is a wolf asserting his dominance; when subordinates get uppity or a strange wolf is nearby, we throw it out as a cleaner version of a pissing contest. It feels like air pressure, but heavier and quite sudden. And your face tells me you've felt it often; not surprising. I'm going to push out mine, just a touch. The wolves in the area will feel it; David will come running. He'll assume that because I'm actually using it, one of mine has gotten out of hand. With you in the area, he'll come running to protect you. Probably half Changed. Would you like to see?"

Emma nodded once more. Robin gave her a cheeky grin, eyes playfully lighting up in golden tones. The push was small as he promised, a familiar weight to the air that took a weight out of her head finally being able to identify what was happening around her. And as promised, David came charging through the woods, eyes golden and eager for blood. What wasn't promised was the white and gray wolf coming from her left or the howling from the camp behind. Robin flinched, not looking nearly as shame faced as he should have.

He looked back to her, "Oops."

David was back to normal, but clearly aggravated. "Oops? You pull that and all you say is 'oops'?"

"I was teaching a lesson is all. If anything, it shows her how loyal my wolves are not only to me, but her. She's very charming." Robin gave David a pointed look that could have meant a great many things, but Emma wasn't fluent in wolf-man speak.

The actual wolf that showed trotted right next to Emma, wiggling between her and Robin before sitting his furry butt right on her feet. She tried to shuffle her legs to get him to move, but he didn't budge, giving his entire focus to Robin. "Will! Get off me. You look like a dog, doesn't mean you get to act like an idiot without manners." Will still didn't move, still didn't shift his focus. "What's up with him now?"

"What Will is doing, is giving us another lesson." David growled softly to her right, but remained where he was as Robin continued. "He's showing that even while he sees me as his Alpha and superior, he's willing to ignore all that for the sake of doing what he thinks is right. In this case, showing off my dominance to you. All he felt was my push, all he knew was that you were with me. While David here probably thought you were in danger, Will probably thought I was forcing you into something. By placing himself between us, he's telling me to let you alone. Wolves are a lot of body language you see. And as his Alpha, I can _make him_ go away, but I prefer it when my wolves do as I say on their own." Robin looked down. "I was only demonstrating the push Will, nothing more."

The wolf began making grunting noises, nosing at her hand. "Get off my feet before I shove this boot up your ass Will."

Will the wolf huffed, but moved to sit at her side all the same. Robin quirked a smile. "See? Charming. One last thing. Regina may not be a hugger, but I am. I won't take one, but I will give one if you're willing?"

Emma wasn't sure if she should push her luck so soon, John might have gotten a shake-free hug, but there wasn't any telling if it would be the same now. She got half a nod out before Robin had her in his arms, hands rubbing gentle circles on her back.

(The shakes didn't come then either.)

* * *

Emma learned why the room they had promised would always be hers wasn't available on her last visit. The smell of fresh paint still clung to the walls, new linens still had their creases from unuse, but her furniture was as she remembered. Her clothes still smelled like her closet back in New York, and a care package from Granny sat solitary on her bed. Mary Margaret spoke of how they asked for her things after Emma left New York Trinity's estate. Even if she decided on living with Robin and Regina, they wanted to give her a room just for herself for the visits during foul weather and full moons. The room was to be treated as Emma's apartment, and if she wanted to commandeer the next room for a bathroom, they could get to work on a conversion too. They just wanted her to feel like she had a home.

It felt like too much.

Emma slept the night way, the familiar comfort of her own bed lulling her into a rest deeper than dreams could reach her.

The next night, Emma is asked to meet David and Mary Margaret in the same study she had originally met them in. It was to be a dinner of just them, nothing formal or pack inclusive. Emma hadn't made three feet in the door before she was hugged by Snow, followed quickly by David who lay a hand to the back of her skull like before. It wasn't the shakes that caused her to shift in their hold, but they moved away all the same.

Snow cradled Emma's hand in her elbow as she guided them both to the chairs by the fire. "We know that we and others have been pretty presumptuous when it comes to what you want and your welfare Emma, but we hope you can forgive us moving your things here from New York. Things have been new enough for you; we wanted to give you back a sense of the familiar."

Emma sat in a chair, "Actually, I'm glad to have my things. Thank you."

Mary Margaret nodded with a smile, pleased with herself over a well-executed choice. "Good. We want you happy here. Now, I was thinking that in a couple weeks, we could have a gathering in your honor. Show the packs –obviously we'll invite the Nomads and extended it to Graham's pack– that the efforts and sacrifices made weren't wasted. That you're alive and recovering; that good triumphs over evil."

Emma looked to David, who was carefully hiding his smirk behind a wine glass. "Are you serious?"

Mary Margaret nodded, "Of course I am. I know I sound sappy, like I waltzed out of some Walt Disney fairy tale. But the packs came together because we asked them to; it helps keep the moral up if we can show them that doing the right thing can be a hard choice, but worth it in the end."

Emma pursed her lips. It was the truth, but Snow took a sip of her wine and shifted her eyes to David. "And? What's the rest of it?"

Mary Margaret paused her glass half way down. "It'll be a great chance for you to meet potential partners."

The fact that Emma didn't storm out of the room should have been solid proof to how far she had come. "Right… listen… I know the rules, what The Council set up. But I can barely stand being hugged, there's no way I'm ready for marriage. Hell I wasn't ready for it _before_ all this happened. I didn't even date… just found one nighters when I really needed one." David choked on his drink. "Frankly I don't think I'm ready for a horde of people either. I've been doing well with the slower pace I found with Robin and his pack. I don't want to keep going that slow, but I can't speed up too far either. I get having the party for everyone idea, and it makes sense. But I'd like to skip the debutant part of it."

Snow put down her glass to lean over and grab Emma's hands. "Of course! This isn't a slave trade Emma. If you don't feel ready, then you don't feel ready. All you had to do was say something. We just thought since you've already racked up a handful of proposals, we'd let our guys have a chance."

Emma blinked. "A handful? I know of two."

David turned a shade of red. "You know of John and Will. There were a few others from the Nomads. And then there was Quinn from Graham's pack."

"Quinn?" Emma all but shrieked. "Nu-uh. He has a thing for Ruby though."

"Probably. But his petition is more along the lines of what John and Will offered you. He knows it'll be a marriage of convenience, but he wants to make sure someone is looking out for you. And if you pick him, you'll be back with Ruby and Graham back home."

Emma dislodged a hand from Mary Margaret's grip to rub her forehead. "Oh this is so surreal."

Snow chuckled. "After all you've been through, _this_ is surreal?" Emma snorted. "The Council can demand a pairing, but not even they can force a mating. If your heart isn't ready, then none of the prospects will work. We'll think of something to keep them placated in the meantime. It might mean the occasional date here and there, but nothing happens if you aren't ready for it."

David growled. "Not that you ever have to be ready for that."

Emma laughed; hoping that gleam of death in his eyes was for effect. "I'll keep that in mind. I have to ask though, since everyone seems to know what I'm going to do weeks before I do. How much of what I'm thinking is written on my face?"

Snow glanced to David, who waved his hand for her to continue. "Well… some of it is obvious… some of it is scent… some is simply logic. Get to know a person well enough and you can predict plenty of what they think. Body language, emotional reactions, our wolves pick up on that and help us shape what's in your head." She paused and tilted her head. "But you're talking about Killian and his farmhouse aren't you? You still doubt he loves you, and are still confused how you feel about him."

Emma pointed to her. "See?"

Mary Margaret sighed. "Emma, it's not a secret to any of us, but I guess we forgot that you wouldn't read the clues the same way we would. Many things you _and_ Killian said or did were as plain as if someone had plastered a neon sign above you both. Even if you weren't aware to doing them, even when he wasn't aware. But even August picked up on it, and he's a human that only had hearsay before you painted a target on his back."

David spoke up again. "That day we got you away from Walsh's house smashed any doubt any of us might have still had."

Emma furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"

David sighed and set down his now empty wine glass. "Do you remember when I was asking you to talk to him? Just so we could get close to you? And then again when I had lifted you, asked you to talk his teeth out of my leg?" Emma nodded but said nothing. "You can't deny you knew he was attached to you in some way long before you two showed up here. I was hoping that hearing you might help snap him out of whatever headspace he might have been in. I didn't think a serious connection had been made, at least not one both of you had, and a closeness in those situations is normal –if not expected. But then you insisted that Killian's wolf would never hurt you. That means a whole lot more than a simple foxhole syndrome. What's more, after everything you had experienced, you still had complete faith in it."

Emma found her voice finally, "He told me several times he would never hurt me. At least once when his eyes were that freaky white color they turn when his wolf is cranky."

Snow and David shared another glance; it was a move Emma was enjoying less and less the more it happened. On a breath, Snow took over the conversation. "It means Killian's wolf chose you Emma. Probably long before Killian came around to the idea. A wolf won't hurt its mate intentionally. But the fact that you believed it so readily is the clue that told us that on some level, you chose him too. A mate pull is a long complicated thing. And since it can vary between each wolf and pairing, it makes it hard to explain to one who isn't a wolf. Even our pairing changed when I became a wolf; I altered so it altered with me. I'm still getting used to the new parts. I will sit down with you soon and go over what I know and what I experience sometime in the next week; you might understand Killian's actions better after. But in the end Emma, it's still the same. Killian wants you; you want him. It might even be why you haven't been able to settle in anywhere since it all ended, Killian hasn't been here."

That drove Emma to her feet. She wasn't running ( _See? I can learn._ ) but it was a near thing to just pace behind the chairs. "I don't need him or anyone else to feel settled."

Mary Margaret hummed. "And just how long were you going to wait before you ran off to his farmhouse again? Knowing it's in our territory and we can't keep you locked up?"

Emma spun, her mouth hanging open and moving like a fish gasping for air.

David leaned his forearms on his knees. "In two weeks, we're formally accepting you into this pack. You don't enjoy crowds, so it'll be a small affair of just Snow, myself and Lance. Formally, you'll have a home and a pack association to satisfy The Council. _Formally_ , I'll employ you in one of our businesses with a job that doesn't really exist. You'll receive a reasonable paycheck every two weeks into your bank account, twenty percent of which will land in a savings. It's a ghost job until you're ready to reenter the work force, at which time I'll find you real employment. I know Archie had that duty, and he's a friend of ours, but he's still Council. If we're going to be dodging the marriage part, we have to involve them as little as possible. _Formally,_ I'll be selling you a vehicle more suited to the local terrain. Payments will be automatically taken out of your paycheck. I know you have your own VW Bug –which will be transported here soon– but there are roads out here that'll tear up that undercarriage. And once you're _formally_ in our pack, you'll be allowed to roam in our borders without suspicion."

Emma held her elbows. "That sounds all very… formal."

Snow grinned impishly. "We obey Law Emma, as it is given."

David snorted. "Now can we eat? I'm starving."


	35. …And a Kiss Hello

**Chapter 34**

**…** **And a Kiss Hello**

* * *

It took Killian far longer to settle his affairs than he liked. Loose ends of accounts and aliases spread throughout the world that he maintained for The Council. Useless now, all useless. He was nearly two months gone after Cora's death just wrapping up the last three hundred years of his life. He was only granted one request, when there were two he needed to secure a chance to properly court Emma. There wasn't a chance without a pack affiliation, but what good would such a thing do him if he spent months on end on a case and away from her? The Council had been generous as far as money was concerned, to the point where his great-grandchildren (should he ever procreate) wouldn't have cause for worry. But it was making sure that Emma wouldn't be forced into a marriage once she picked a pack that brought air back to Killian's lungs. Not that he was a jealous man (he was), he just didn't want her to be forced into a loveless pairing. Whomever she chose, he wanted her to have a chance to smile at the lucky bastard the way she had smiled at him a few times. So what did it matter if he chose to retire to be close enough to watch over her during her remaining years? He hadn't eaten the vile fucker that hurt her just to let some other ponce toss it all to pot.

The only hitch was his wolf. It had tasted what Pack Life could be under someone he could respect as his Alpha; it had glimpsed what mated life could be with Emma. And it was threatening madness again just to get it all back. It wanted nothing else, and if Killian were an honest man (he wasn't), neither did he. He might not have either granted via retirement, but he'd never have a shot if he were still traipsing about the globe as a Hunter for The Council.

_Never have her…_

His wolf clawed inside to be back stateside for his Swan, satisfied briefly only when Robin or Ruby sent word along to how she fared. When he received the text from Robin that Emma had been initiated into Brookside Pack and that a few of his wolves were talking pack transfers to follow her along, Killian all but drowned in himself to withhold a Change. While near his home, David and Snow were strict followers of the Law. If they hadn't been notified of her case status, or what he fought for, they would be pairing her off long before he managed to get home. Males following from another pack was Robin's way of warning him that Mary Margaret would be setting up interviews for just such a thing. Ruby's similar text to "get his Irish ass back home" hadn't helped matters. His time window to present his lot was quickly closing, narrowing further still with his silence over these long months. Her forgiveness wasn't going to be easy, but for Emma Swan, he was willing to do anything.

* * *

If someone had let Emma know the method of bringing one into a pack, she might have begged to have her memories erased instead. But it was done, and now she belonged to Brookside. She felt them in a way, not individually, but more like a warm blanket she couldn't toss aside no matter how suffocated she felt from it. Mary Margaret assured her that the feeling becomes less foreign the more time passes, but that didn't ease the cramped and confined idea of too many cousins. It was a phone call from Ruby that calmed her general upset of it; that it wasn't any different to knowing that her and Graham were always there for her, just a few dozen more doing the same. (The side note that the whole pack now had her inside their heads was a touch more comforting.) Emma usually retreated her own apartment/room when it got to be too much; they even let her install a key lock –so long as she gave Snow and David a spare. But it was once again under renovations as they converted the room next door to a bathroom. The idea originally had given Emma a good laugh, because the proper pipes couldn't suddenly appear in the layout of a house. Her laughter died when the contractor gave a price tag that could fund the next trip to the moon, and Snow simply smiled and nodded. Now she was residing in another room or out at Killian's farmhouse when she needed time alone. He hadn't returned to claim it back, causing Emma to question what drew her to a man who could so easily walk away from his own home. But she wasn't going to waste so much available space.

It was there in his kitchen, ready to clean up the mess of failed crêpes, when a text from Mary Margaret said to get back to manor as soon as possible. Something urgent, something important, something now. Emma's brain flew in a million directions, and every other one was a worry for a man who couldn't send her a simple hello. So it was with its own mild dose of disgust that Emma threw off the sweater (of his) she wore and into the hamper, sliding on her own clothes in hopes it would hide her mind from the folk who could all but read it. She may as well have entered the solarium wearing a sandwich board declaring her mind to the veritable hen party waiting for her; Mary Margaret sat between Ruby and Regina at a large table. Food and drink available, and tension in spades.

Emma stared; she knew an intervention when she saw it. "I don't care what it is you think you need to tell me, I don't want to know."

Regina scoffed. "Yes, you do. Now sit down before you waste the effort it's taking for Miss Lucas to sit in the same room with me."

Ruby glared, "Don't speak for me again."

Regina rolled her eyes before looking back to Emma. "See?"

Mary Margret stood up between them, growling. "This is my home. You are both my friends. Emma is my pack. _Mine_. So stuff it if you two can't use your manners." Emma blanked, not used to the tiny woman giving anything but gentle understanding. "Emma, we're here because it's time you learned about the role you'll play as a mate. The three of us know you best, and we all spent time as humans who landed in a relationship with non-humans. We've all experienced what the pull of a mate is like from both sides of this particular coin. So, why don't you get comfortable so we can get started?"

Emma took a step back. "You promised me that you guys could keep The Council off my back about that until I felt ok to date. That all I had to do was fake interest a couple times."

Regina arched a brow. "Actually, the stipulation for your marriage to a pack member was removed. So long as you remain with Brookside, you don't have to marry anyone if you don't want to."

Emma blanked again. "Wait… what?"

Ruby sighed. "It was Killian. You were told that he was out there making sure the other threats were taken care of; well… he took care of them. And one of the things he asked for as payment was that you wouldn't be forced into a marriage. The Council agreed so long as you picked a pack. Now it's just a matter of making sure they don't know about your excursions to Killian's home. You aren't breaking any rules, but it would look… _odd_ … that you're running away to his house once a week or so."

The wheels turned in Emma's head. "If he got paid, that means he's done doing whatever they asked of him right?"

Regina rose the other brow, " _That's_ what you took away from all that? Not that you're free from a forced pairing, but that your boyfriend might be on his way home?"

Emma waved her off, "Stop calling him my boyfriend. If he's done working for a bit, that means I need to clear out of his farmhouse."

Snow tilted her head. "Why?"

Emma shrugged. "So he won't know I've been squatting? It's not like he's spoken to me recently, I don't know how he'd react to finding my tampons in the bathroom."

Ruby laughed, "Emma sit down. We do need to talk this over. If nothing else, think of it as sex ed. Even if you aren't getting any, it's still a good idea to know how tab A fits in slot B."

Regina shifted. "She's right. You don't want the mate thing _now_ , but would you rather be ignorant when the option does finally come around?" Ruby leaned forward and caught Regina's eyes. "What? I can admit you were right without dry heaving. Especially when it comes to this subject. No one should be blind-sided by the effects of mating. We don't need another Greg and Tamara incident."

Emma recalled August's words, and the panic came with them. All three women came to attention with worry etching their features, so Emma moved to sit, hoping it negated their fears. "Ok… ok… fine. Wolf Sex Ed 101 with you three. Not weird at all. But go on… Obi Wan me."

Ruby's hand came up to cradle her forehead. "Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and he ears of the deaf shall be unstopped."

Emma looked at her, "What?"

Regina moved to grab her cup of tea. "Exactly."

Snow fluttered her hands. "I swear you two. Now Emma, you know the basic concept of mating. Marriage, but an extreme version. Just like we brought you into the pack, becoming a mate has the same principles. You become connected to them through our brand of magic. A mate bond is different in that only you and your mate are in that bond. It belongs to only you two, so the feed is stronger and sometimes less filtered. If you were wolf, you'd be more receptive to the effects, but as a human the sensations should be dulled quite a bit. It's different for every wolf, every pairing. But the basic package is that you'll feel your mate's emotional reactions to things, have knowledge to their well-being –hurt or alive or what have you, and they'll have access to yours. It seems like an invasion of privacy, but you get the same window into them. Abuse drops to almost never because the abuser would get to feel the damage as it's inflicted. Like with Greg and Tamara, he knew every time she had an affair, she knew every time he nearly died. Sometimes I think they liked the pain… but I wasn't there so I'm not making those assumptions."

Emma nibbled on a cookie. "So I live in someone's head, and they live in mine?"

Ruby sat up. "To a point. But it's not mind reading, you can't hear their thoughts and they can't hear yours. It's more like shades of colors and feelings; you learn to interpret them as you go."

Regina pointed a finger to Ruby. "That's not entirely true. Robin and I can hear each other's thoughts. But it's not a constant feed, only what we project to one another. And for that matter, it's not an open source. You can cut it off. Stop the flow in either direction. It takes practice, but it's possible."

Mary Margaret nodded. "I could hear David sometimes, but I couldn't transmit back to him. The best he could do was read the basics. But that was more than enough, because David is attentive and willing to learn. It'll be a bit harder for you Emma, because you're human and because of your recent ordeal. It's going to have you closed off in ways that would drive most partners away."

Ruby choked on her tea. "So if she was always like that? My Emma isn't so good with intimacy." Ruby held up a hand to Emma, "Not that you hadn't earned every brick in those walls of yours Lemur, but you scratched the itch more than sought company."

Mary Margaret pursed her lips. "Whoever decides to make that connection with you is going to have a hell of a time getting through to you. But when a wolf makes a choice like that, it's not something they walk away from, not unless they've been rejected."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Rejected?"

She nodded, "Just because the wolf picked you, doesn't mean you have to allow it. You can reject them, openly, and the wolf becomes free to move on. You're under no obligation to that person just because they can't keep it to a crush."

Emma bobbed her head. "Good to know. You've all told me Killian's wolf picked me though. If that was true, how did he walk away?"

Two dark heads turned to Regina. "He was killing my mother Emma. Cora would have come after you again and again; she didn't like to lose. He left to make sure you were safe. He kept quiet to make sure the focus stayed on him hunting her, and not his worry over you."

Emma leaned back in the chair, "That sounds like a line. Not a lie, just incredibly convenient." She sighed, "So you three decided to pow-wow and pull this non-intervention on me to what? Help me understand that being around werewolves is going to be even more invasive? Or should I be looking to the glaringly obvious sub text here?"

Snow's nose crinkled, "Both?"

Ruby leaned forward, "Killian's job ended some time ago… and then he went off grid. He's only sent a brief message to Robin that he was alright. We want you prepared if he's arranging things to come home, because if he comes home, it's for you. And we want you knowing what he's going to be asking for. It's a bond that connects deep, and its forever. It's intense and unnerving and–"

"And once you've gotten used to it," Mary Margaret interrupted, "It's something that feels wonderful. You're never alone even if you're the only living creature for miles. You never have to doubt how your partner feels about you–"

"And the sex is something you can't begin to comprehend. It takes them moments to figure out what out what you like over the multiple sessions otherwise." Regina finished.

Emma rubbed her temples. "I'm going to be seeing that in my head for the rest of the week, thanks."

Mary Margaret chuckled. "The point Emma is that you've got your first choice coming up soon. So whatever details you want, now is the time to ask. We've cleared our schedules for this tonight, and the men won't be coming around to turn into Neanderthals on your behalf."

Emma leaned back in her chair. _In for a penny…_

* * *

It was with great difficulty that he maintained his human-skin when he smelled the distinct smell of two males at his farmhouse. Both older wolves from what he could tell, which would mean a pair from Robin's get. It wasn't something he enjoyed doing, but when he tracked the scents to the woods edge to find piss marks of territory, he took in the markers. One wasn't familiar, but he'd know the scent of Will Scarlet anywhere. Wasn't the first time Scarlet had come up on his trees to do the very same thing simply to cause trouble. Killian growled loudly to the air, removing their markers was going to take time he didn't want to spare. He had a Swan to check on after all, but he had to maintain what territory he had, or chasing after Emma would mean nothing to the rest of the wolves doing the same. On the trip to his back porch he took note of the fresh cut firewood lining a wall and some patchwork had been done to the roof. Dismissed quickly as Robin looking out for Killian's only homestead, something that had been before. (Also the reason Scarlet took up pissing in Killian's woods, didn't enjoy keeping up a fellow blokes home.) But it was the scent on his door that stopped him outright.

In the dead of night, his door was bursting of sunshine.

_Emma…_

His senses were frantic reaching out as far as they could strain themselves, searching for any other hint that she was here with him already. But all they told him was that she had been here, recently even, just not now. Killian wasn't clear if it left him relieved or disappointed. He wasn't ready to present his suit yet, not when he wasn't even sure how to apologize; not like Hallmark made a card for his particular offense and he was fairly certain there weren't enough flowers in the greenery's worldwide to cover his arse. His wolf tried to justify it with the idea that they were only protecting what was theirs, but Killian knew all too well how the human heart worked; no amount of trivial gifts or heroic quests would absolve him of this. No, he wasn't ready just yet.

He pushed through the door finally, taking a moment to absorb her scent filtering out of his home. A whole new torture for himself it was, the tint of anxiety doing nothing to hold down his need of her. There were small traces of her everywhere. Dishes in the sink, a day or two old. A body print on his couch with a throw blanket that he was certain never belonged to him. Further in, he saw the room she lodged in for one night had seen more of her in his absence. The bathroom held her toiletries and other things women housed near the vanity. She hadn't been here for a visit, Emma had half moved in. The thrill shot through him before logic could grab hold, hope drilling its way into him. Killian stomped as much of it as he could, leaving only the idea that she was bound to return at some point. Any point in fact, which made him move faster to his room to collect a few things to last him out in the woods. She could have his house, she could have the whole bloody property; if this place was the reason he hadn't felt those pangs of panic of late, then he wasn't going to be the sod to be greedy for it. He'd simply stalk the trees, and wait till she wasn't in the house to use it again. Gods knew he wanted her, but not by surprise, not by force. He'd wait and idle and come to her slowly.

He moved through the rooms collecting what he needed, disturbing as little reality as he could; not wanting it to fade away. His own room was another blow to his senses. Her scent was stronger here than in the other, the covers tossed about, his pillows used. His fingers ghosted over the fabrics, mapping the topography to the indents left behind. Hope became the needles in his blood, stabbing and pushing him to believe that she was in fact seeking him out in whatever way she could. He forced himself to turn away from his bed, resisting the urge to roll in the linens. The closet door had been left ajar, a quick peek showed his hamper filled with a few items of his that didn't belong in this house; ones that should still be in his apartment at Granny's. A sweater, soft and thick, lay half out for his inspection. Sunshine and gunpowder assaulted him, his eyes rolling back blissfully. Hope is a loud thing when a man discovers a woman had worn his clothes and slept in his bed.

Killian still had to announce himself to David and Mary Margaret. There were rules to follow if he wanted to have Emma in his life again, however she chose for that to happen. He lay the sweater as it had been, wishing on the stars that these dreams come true.

_A few items… then David… I'm almost here Swan… almost here…_

* * *

With a flare of irritation from her end, Killian felt Emma race towards him for the third time that week. He hung back in his tree line, awaiting his rare glimpse of his Swan. David's words of giving her more time burned still in his ears. The Alpha was adamant that Emma be given as much time to adjust to her new life before another came in to alter it once more. Even when Killian agreed, pressing that he only wanted to have the chance to explain his absence, David's arms crossed his barrel chest and a golden tint stained his eyes. The message was clear; Emma wasn't to be approached until David allowed it. ( _And here I was worried that she'd have been married off before I could name the Catholic saints._ ) As such, he was forced to behave like a stalker every time she came to his house. Living in his own home without leaving a trace of it, hiding in wait until she removed herself from the grounds, torturing himself with her proximity and the lingering ghosts of her movements once he returned inside. It was insane and preposterous, but he wouldn't trade the one or two seconds of seeing her walk from truck to door, nor the sense of self she seemed to find before leaving. The night was that deep dark just before a full moon would rise over the horizon. It didn't sway him as it once had, living so long without any pack to encourage the wild nature a full moon could pull from a wolf. Brookside would be setting up for their own games soon, which was likely the issue that placed Emma in his home once more. She didn't cook anything or switch on the television for distraction, her shadows just moved directly to his bedroom; a habit he noticed when something had made her particularly angry. How he longed to hold her and soothe away whatever had pushed her too far again.

"Isn't that your house Killian?"

Killian startled, a growl resounding loudly from within his chest, dying down only fractionally when the offending Fae came to stand next to him. "Gods above woman! Why must you do that?"

The Blue Star looked at him, "Because it's fun."

Killian huffed, wondering if the Fae knew a damn thing about werewolves outside of what she read from a book. "Why are you here Reul Gorham?"

The Blue Star looked to the house where Emma lay. "Did any of you think I wasn't aware of what was going on out here in Maine?"

Killian felt a small ball of fear bounce once in his stomach. "Pardon?"

Her arms crossed her chest. "Spare me the false ignorance Killian. Emma was there at your trial. When has The Council ever let a mere human be a part of a trial they weren't directly fundamental to? Your first demand for killing Cora was to ensure Miss Swan wouldn't be forced into any relationship, following with a request of retirement so you could stay as close to her as possible? Did you really think me so stupid that I wouldn't see your motivations?"

Killian's jaw beat in time with his pulse before he found his voice. "I wanted her to have as much control as I could give her, she's suffered enough."

The Fae nodded next to him. "I read the reports. All of them. You've chosen her, wolf and man, yes?"

Killian swallowed. "Yes."

"But has she chosen you?"

He couldn't stop his eyes from scanning the walls of his home, hope seeping into his blood. "I was hoping to have the chance to find out."

The Blue Star nodded. "Then call her out here."

Killian whipped his head to look at the Fae. "It doesn't work like that. That's only possible after the bond has been accepted by both parties, and that's a rarity even among paired wolves let alone between wolf and human."

She fixed him with a stare that knew more than he was comfortable with. "Call her. Or I might start remembering I'm the High Chair of The Council and that she's not residing at her designated location."

Fear bubbled into rage. "She's within proper boundaries. She's breaking no Law."

The Blue Star arched a brow. "On a full moon, an unmated female wandering off alone? Yes, Killian Jones, she's breaking Law."

He struggled for a way to make this end, but his mind was too clouded to think properly. "And when it doesn't work? You'll punish us? Punish her for something utterly out of her control?"

She shook her head. "Not exactly. But I might find it necessary to play with her memories a bit more permanently. It's obvious that she's having difficulty conforming to our ways, our Laws. We all want Miss Swan to be settled and happy after her event, and so far it seems it's her new life preventing just that. It's been a consideration of The Council that wiping her memory of everything she has endured would be the best alternative to satisfy all parties interested, save you. She'd be free of the memories containing Cora and wolves and Walsh. She'd return to that woman you met."

"And what of her family? Granny and Ruby and Graham? Not even Merlin could erase that much without causing damage."

"They would be in her mind as she originally knew them, humans she formed relationships with. The only real difference would be the drive to see the west coast once she discovers Alpha Humbert and Miss Lucas are involved romantically."

Killian wondered what his punishment would be for killing the High Chair of The Council, provoked as it might be.

The Blue Star sighed, softening her stance. "Call her. If she comes, then you'll both have answers for what the future might hold. If she doesn't… well then we'll just have to see how the rest of Spring unfolds."

Killian gritted his teeth against the Change threatening him, his wolf eager for Fae blood. What choice did he have? She wouldn't hear him, she shouldn't be able to even if she felt for him what he felt for her. The whole charade would force a timetable on all of them, and dwindle his chances to near nothing. But hope stabbed its needles through his veins again; the idea of her possibly hearing him stole his ability to breathe.

"Killian?"

What choice did he have? He shifted, bracing his soul for the outcome he had feared since the beginning. "Aye then."

* * *

Emma told herself that it was his bed being more comfortable and his pillows that perfect combination between supportive and mushy. She told herself it was the darker tones he designed his room in that helped bring about the deep dreamless sleep she wanted. She told herself it was the amazing shower he had in his bathroom and it only made sense to be in the bedroom right next to it. Emma told herself just about anything to make sleeping in Killian's bed justifiable. It was bad enough that she was running off to his place any time she felt upset or out of place at Brookside. And maybe that was her problem to begin with; having her own hideaway so easily accessible could be preventing her from connecting to the people she's supposed to remain with from here until the end of time. Not that any of that explained why she consistently chose Killian's bed to hide in over anywhere else in the house. Emma never considered herself a deep thinker, never one to overanalyze anything, and she wasn't about to pick up such a habit now. She did what she did, and dealt with the consequences when she had to. Whatever the why of it, Emma preferred Killian's bed to the other soft surfaces available. The part of her brain wanting to properly label and sort her world could just go to hell. And to prove the point more, Emma fluffed the pillow she was using just to burrow further into it and wait for sleep to take her to oblivion.

Emma shot up and twisted so she faced the bedroom door, sure she had heard her name spoken. Half ready to drink Killian's stash of rum to drown her brain if it turned out to be one of those quirks that happen only when you're on the cusp of sleep. Emma wasn't in the mood to fight her own head for a few moments of rest. The air was still, humidity edging its way into the air as a precursor to the regime change in the weather. She thought it was Will for a moment, keeping watch while the other wolves were out playing under the full moon. But he had given up all pretense of manners around Emma, taking to barging in the house and shouting for bangers and mash –whatever the hell that was. John would be the quiet type to whisper and tip toe around, but as Robin's second, he was bound to helping organize the games and shouldn't be outside the house at all. Silence persisted, Emma berated herself for being so paranoid, letting her weight slide her back down to the bed.

_Emma…_

She shot out of the room and stood in the main living area. She knew she heard it that time, and not so tired that her brain conjured a voice from nowhere. But the panic climbed up her throat and Emma had to remind herself that Walsh had been dead for months, that Cora was no longer a problem. Killian had killed them both to keep her safe. She focused her breathing letting the panic run its course, letting the adrenaline keep her from falling into another blackout. When her limbs didn't feel like they would wobble if she moved, Emma made her way to the kitchen, bee lining for the pantry. She pulled out the lockbox that held the gun and bullets Ruth Nolan had given her in Chicago. They still might do jack shit by way of real damage, but neither would Emma just stand around with nothing in her hands.

_Emma…_

She dropped one bullet on the ground. The voice felt like it was in her head, and for a whole second, Emma thought her sense of reality had finally cracked. She quickly decided it didn't matter a damn if it had. She had put up with the world losing its mind; she was due for her turn. She loaded the clip and crept to the front door, peaking through the curtains to see if any vehicles had arrived quietly. Somewhere in her head, Graham chided her for thinking all bad things arrived in cars; she argued with it that bad things would need one to haul her away. But the world outside was as it had been when she first entered the house, empty and dark. She backed off the windows, just in case someone could make out her movements, moving back into the main living area once more. She waited… waited…

_Please Swan…_

Her heart stuttered, and her lungs paused. The voice wasn't as she remembered, but there weren't many who had addressed her by her last name in her life, and only one in recent years. She didn't question why she heard him in her head, or why her feet carried her to the back door, or why her fingers unlocked it. She didn't think of her safety or how there was a small army of wolves that would rip into her for exiting the house on the night of a full moon, or that some would rant against simply exiting the house. These were things she just did, without thought, without reason, letting impulse take her again. The stars were fading with the glow of the rising moon to take their place. She could see under its light, not everything, but well enough. Nothing came for her, so fear began to fill the spot of the voice instead. Maybe a wolf from Robin's pack to claim her as his own while everyone was busy, or maybe it was that twisted teenager from The Council; Emma started to catch on that she had no idea what might have been out here for her.

Following impulse as she did, she shouted to the air. "I don't care who you are, I'm not in the mood for mind games. Calling me out like this will only give you a few new holes in the stomach to feed yourself with; if you manage a meal before I bring the wolves in."

The laughter was faint, but it still carried. A shadow moved through the trees, male by the width of the shoulders, or a very muscled woman. It broke the tree line, dark hair glinting silver under the moonlight, a grin stretched wide, and ice white eyes glowing in competition with the moon. His strides were long, but measured. Giving her time to make him leave, or run away. Not that she would run; prey runs, and Emma was long over being someone's prey.

She whispered his name before the adrenaline decided it still needed its moment. "Are you shitting me? What they said was real?"

Killian paused in his steps, continuing his momentum at a slower pace. "I am not 'shitting' anything at the moment, but to what are you referring? Who said what to you darling?"

"David and Snow and Ruby and Regina… Christ even Will mentioned a few things. They said that mates live in each other's heads, that sometimes they can hear each other…" Emma shut her mouth, pissed that she gave away so much so soon.

Killian had reached the bottom the steps leading up to her. His smug grin widening with her babbling. "Did they now?"

Emma huffed and ran her available hand through her hair. This conversation needed a new direction; anything else would be a better topic over the idea that she understood herself to be Killian's mate. "You don't call, you don't write… well not to _me_ at least… just where the hell have you been?" He winced, shoulders slumping with her accusation. "You could have told me you were ok, or that you were off finishing the job. I get you couldn't share details, but you could have given me something Killian. Anything! Even a simple goodbye so I wouldn't have to wonder."

His eyes snapped back to hers. Not white, nor blue. The colors swirled like fish in a pond. "Why would I ever want to bid you farewell Swan?"

She shrugged her shoulders, hand and gun flailing through the air. "Right, of course. When you could say nothing at all."

He took the steps, one at a time. A deliberate thud in each one until he stood right in front of her. She wasn't a wolf, she had no idea what to classify his smell as, just that it smelled like him. Warm and male and _him_. "I am sorry for that Emma. You needed to heal, and I wasn't sure if my presence would trigger the wrong memories. So when I was asked to finish this off, I took the job. I knew you'd be well looked after, even when I had to make those words a mantra for every breakdown you had; I felt them all you see, and we wanted to be the one to hold you and make them stop." He sighed. "Cora needed to die, for what she did to us. And I couldn't risk more consequences falling at your feet for my actions."

Anger flooded her chest. "Was that so hard? That's a text message Killian. Lost my phone number that quickly huh?"

He shuffled closer, though she wasn't sure he was aware of it. She was sure that her feet didn't back away though. "I can't excuse it all away love. And we both know if I could, you'd only accept half of it. I thought it would be enough if I removed the remaining threats against you, if I kept a distance…" He looked back to the trees, and above their tops to the few stars still blinking in the sky. "But I grew tired of chasing Cora while I was doing it. I couldn't let her live, picked up her trail from the house where they kept you, made it as far as Maryland before the urge to quit and run back here pulled at me. So after… I just…"

Emma felt her face pinch, "It isn't over is it?"

Killian turned his head, shame filling his features. "It never is. The person Cora was trying to please is still out there. But that task held a greater price than I was willing to pay."

She justified her swaying towards him as exhaustion. "What price?"

He mirored her movements. "It would have taken me away from you indefinitely Emma, and I couldn't stomach another moment." His eyebrow quirked and his voice grew louder by a few notches. "Even though I would have been content to come back into your life slowly so as not to startle you."

Emma startled and stopped moving, "What are you doing?"

Killian shook his head. "Shouting to the winds. Sometimes they blow too hard and push us in directions we weren't planning on taking."

She blinked at him. "Are you still a little crazy?"

He looked amused by her, even when his eyes swirled for a few seconds. "Possibly."

His hand came up with only a brief pause, cupping her cheek as a look of pained relief went over him. She thought of stopping him, of backing away because he had been gone. But she remembered how touch had helped when she was only a case for him; his face now was more proof of how he felt than anything anyone had told her over the last few months. He looked over her face, eyes shifting and swirling; another thing Emma would have to figure out. He didn't push for more contact; just let his thumb brush her cheekbone as he studied what he could see. The light wasn't ideal, but Emma took the time to take him in too. His eyes were bruised from lack of sleep and he was skinnier than when she last saw him. His hair looked newly cut and his beard still looked like it was growing in; something she knew he did on purpose. Emma wanted to believe he had done it for her, but there couldn't have been a way he'd know she'd show up at his place tonight, not unless…

"We have things we need to talk about Killian."

"Aye." His voice was breathless and almost offhanded.

"Probably be more comfortable inside…"

His eyebrow raised as the flirtatious man she first met, met her in her eyes. "Are you inviting me in the house Swan?"

Emma chuckled, stepping backwards to the door. His feet followed step for step, unwilling to get far enough away to stop touching her. "It's your house Killian, not like you need my permission."

"Perhaps not…"

He had to let go of her when she turned to open the door, the warmth lingering on her cheek and twitching a smile from her. Not that she would show him, understanding she might be, but she was still angry over his month's long silence; even if it dimmed the longer she was with him. She guided him to his living room, igniting the wood in the fireplace already set up to be lit. It wasn't so cold anymore that they needed it, but it gave her hands something to do and the heat would help mask the blush still staining her face. She rose to her feet, watching the kindling catch, telling herself that she needed to make sure it caught properly before she dealt with him. She watched still when the logs began to smoke and Killian had come up closer behind her, fingering the ends of her hair.

"Emma?"

She hummed her response, still not sure what to tell him, or what to ask him.

_Emma?_

She turned, "What?"

A grin pulled his mouth as he waited for her to realize he had done it again. There wasn't enough fire on the sun that could mask the way her blood moved then.

"I'm going to kiss you now."

"Oh real–"

He leaned in, stilling her words with a chaste press of his lips to hers. His hand once again on her face and his thumb tracing along her cheek. She waited for the shakes to come, the panic to raise the taste of fish in her throat. She waited when he tilted his head just a fraction to his right and caught her top lip between his and she waited when she took that half step closer to him to place her hand on his bicep for balance. She waited when his hand went around her waist and he pulled himself the rest of the distance, and she waited when a small whimper from her was answered with a low groan from him.

She hated the waiting, the pause for things to get bad for her. She wanted to stop waiting.

A warmth spread outwards from her chest and he hissed in time with it. Emma panted as the warmth grew hotter, searing her from the inside. Before she could form words to ask him for help, Killian was back against her lips. Swallowing every moan she failed to check, hands gripping her hip and hair respectively. Emma held on as best she could as he pushed and pulled them both through the need that consumed him and taunted her. She was burning and spinning, clutching his arm and jacket while his hips anchored to hers. Her legs began to shake and her hands gripped tighter on him; she needed to breathe, needed to release the ache in her chest. His arms flexed to take her weight as he pulled away from her, eyes taking in everything she had going on in her head. (She was sure the words were scrolling across her forehead.)

"I guess that's our cue to stop."

Emma blinked. "What? Why? I mean... what was _that_?" _And the win for most desperate goes to…_

Killian chuckled, causing Emma to blush under the idea he had heard her. " _That_ … that is a very long discussion regarding our relationship while I duck and dodge David from removing my head." Emma furrowed her forehead. Digging through the fog to understand what David could possibly have to do with this. Killian's face softened, and his hand brushed some wayward hair from her face. "We should stop… because while it's apparent we have chosen each other to varying degrees love, we've still been on but one date. And that was technically on the job. Let me do this the right way, let me court you properly."

Will's words beat in her skull in between her own misgivings. "Until you get another assignment. You might have an extended lifespan, but I don't."

Killian shook his head. "Figures no one would tell you that part. I no longer work for The Council; they granted me retirement with Cora's death. I couldn't be able to be what you need with employment like that, not even a friend. I'm here now, and I don't plan on leaving unless you want me to."

Emma tilted her head to the side. "I don't know. It seems I have quite a few offers to sort through. Men –and I think a woman– willing to be no more than friends if that's all I can give them. Even Will Scarlet put in his bid…"

Killian growled deep in his chest. It was a horrible trick to play on him, something a nasty teenager would do for kicks. But she needed him to know he wasn't the only one circling the block; Will doing exactly that even. She needed him to know that she wasn't picking him because she had nothing else, but because she was following her gut and picking something that felt strong against the shit storm her life had turned out to be.

Killian's ears twitched, his brows sitting low and furrowed with her teasing. "If that bloody wanker has said one inappropriate thing–"

She cut him off with another press to his lips. ( _Figures he'd choose to be protective of my sensibilities over the jealousy I know he's feeling._ ) She rolled her torso as she bent a little backwards, forcing his arms to tighten around her again.

He hummed and pushed himself off of her as much he could without dropping her. "Emma love, be kind on me. I want nothing more than to dive myself deep inside you, mark you mine for all and sundry to see. But we have all the time in the world now."

"Until another creature comes to kidnap me."

His eyes swirled once before settling on a harsh white. "Not funny Swan."

She breathed through a laugh, "Ok… ok." She relented to another peck before righting herself and taking a step back. "If not… _that…_ " His eyebrow twitched and his hips shifted. "Then how about I make some coffee and you spill the details. I've been getting half stories from third hand accounts now for months and it's driving me insane not knowing what's going on. Or… has gone on. Tell me the whole story?"

Killian followed her to the kitchen, "Aye well… you see it all started with this woman taking a run through the woods wearing boots entirely inappropriate for the affair…"

* * *

The farmhouse held laughter and firelight under the pale moon. The breath of Spring and new life mingling with the renewed ones of Wolf and Woman. Reul Gorham still stood where Killian had left her. It was as it should be, and things would be as they needed them to be. Leaves rustled next to her as a man took his place to her left, as was his usual spot to be.

"So then it's true? As I saw them?"

She sighed. "Yes. Killian Jones and Emma Swan have found their place together, as you saw. Though I would assume given the road they took to get there will make the official decree a while yet coming."

Merlin hummed. "We might not have that kind of time."

The shadows around them deepened and life held its breath for the evil to fade away. It spoke instead, insolent as it was. "We don't I'm afraid. The Dark One isn't one to tolerate this level of defeat, nor is he one to allow his enemies any happiness. He'll find out about this sooner rather than later, and his assault will begin again. Though I doubt he'll be willing to wait as long as he did for a puppet like Cora to come along."

Merlin shifted his feet. "Malcolm's right, we won't be able to shield Killian Jones from him much longer."

Reul nodded to the house. "What about Emma Swan? Is she what we thought her to be?"

The shadows flickered. "She has fire… I like fire… so useful. Someone has covered for her well, but all secrets will out. What the sorcerer can't see, I will dredge up."

Reul stared on to the house, taking note of the wolf rounding the far corner to sniff at the windows. "Good. Is the other in place?"

Merlin nodded. "Dispatched a week ago. Hopefully she'll be well integrated by the time we'll need these two."

"Then for now we are done. These games are almost finished. Go, I'll cover the scent markers."

The shadows deepened before they disappeared, and Merlin bowed low before he faded away. Reul stood in her spot, watching the house a few moments more. Hope was bountiful within, warming it more than any fire could. She raised her hand, flora sprouting where they shouldn't under the motion. They filtered the air, and would keep the two inside safe for now; it was the best The Reul Gorham could do.

**_An Deireadh._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: See? Told you guys you'd hate the ending. Thank you, those of you who stuck it out. Those of you who encouraged even while you fretted over what I intended to do. Those of you who took a chance on a genre you weren't a fan of. Those of you who reached out on a personal level across formats to just chat. Once more I'll recommend the Mercy Thompson and Alpha&Omega series by Patricia Briggs. Her books are what I used as a foundation for this story, placing the supernatural on a more realistic level. 
> 
> I don't plan on writing more, not anytime soon. There is a prequel involving the drama that circled Brookside in Snow's youth. But that has been shelved indefinitely; this story has put so many things on the back burner and I have to tend to them now that I can. I set myself up for a sequel should I ever figure one out, but that'll be even longer coming than the prequel, so I wouldn't encourage anyone to wait for it. If a mood strikes and I fiddle with a drabble or two, they'll be dumped into the same section the Red Hunter piece is. Again, don't hold out for it. 
> 
> The only writing you might see will be a handful of tragedy pieces. If any of this was too angsty for you, I beg you to avoid anything I do label tragedy.


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